The King, a Philosopher
by Daanana
Summary: Three years undead, two years crowned and one year behind on a queen. So when Robert - forcedly - begins to search for a wife, he bites of more than he can chew. God bless the King.
1. Prologue

_I absolutely LOVED episode 2 of this season. Lord have mercy!_

 _This story, though, is COMPLETELY AU - obviously - but I have already written a big part of it and thought to upload it anyway. Only 16 short chapters, based on an article I read about finding a wife. After writing my Robert in Amative's latest chapter, this just came rolling out and I couldn't stop it. All in jest. I actually had loads of fun writing it._

* * *

 **The King, a Philosopher**

 **Three years undead, two years crowned and one year behind on a wife. God bless the King.**

 **Prologue.**

He hated her. Aside from the fact that she was incredibly funny and his almost brother in law – if Jasper ever popped the question and God knew he'd been walking around with a ring for months now – loved her dearly – something about being best mates and shit – Robert was pretty certain he hated her.

Why was she even invited to functions like this?

But as he looked around he saw more unfamiliar faces than friendly ones and perhaps she did have a place here then, but he made a mental note to review the guest list thoroughly next time and inconspicuously scratch her name from it, just to prevent situations like this.

Situations in which she callously threw a bomb into the crowd and then happily skipped away to watch the world burn from a safe distance.

 _Little bitch._

He smiled politely as the Countess of Wessex told him of her cousin's oh-so-many redeeming qualities and how she dutifully attended service every Sunday.

'I'm sure she's wonderful,' he nodded, 'but truly, I am not searching for a wife just yet.'

The Countess looked disappointed.

'But that girl just said –'

 _That girl is out of her mind._

'She was just jesting,' he said instead, still smiling. Silently gnashing his teeth.

'Excuse me for a moment,' he said, kissing her hand like the chivalrous _bastard_ he was.

He found his brother and sister near the pool, accompanied by their friends and Eleanor's not-boyfriend even though he accompanied her to all official functions and again, that _damned ring he'd been carrying around._

'Where's that bloody friend of yours?' he asked Jasper, glaring at him. Jasper stared back unperturbed, one immaculately raised eyebrow the only form of emotion he was showing. Bloody brick of a man.

He corrected himself.

 _Bloody gorgeous brick of a man._

'Where is your friend?' he repeated.

'You should be more specific, Your Highness,' Jasper replied. Robert rolled his eyes.

'Of course, because you're little Miss Sunshine and you have thousands of friends running around,' he snapped. 'Save me the cheek. Where is Poppy?'

Eleanor grinned.

'What has upset you, brother dearest?' she asked, placing a hand on his forearm. He eyed it disdainfully and she tightened her hold, digging her nails into his skin.

Wasn't there a law making it punishable to lay hands on a King? Banishment from the Palace – from his bloody _life_ – seemed proper penance.

'The presence of a commoner named Poppy,' he snarled, 'has upset me. And her yapping to several countesses about my _wife hunting_ is rubbing me several wrong ways. So when you see her, tell her I'm looking for her so I can strangle her and knock some sense into that minuscule brain of hers.'

He rounded on Jasper, eyes flashing.

'And you,' he hissed. 'Stop inviting _your_ damn plebeian friend to _my_ bloody parties.'

'Noted,' Jasper replied drily and Robert felt anything but taken seriously.

'And I will be sure to tell Poppy once I see her,' Eleanor added. 'In the meantime, the Queen Mother is looking for you. Something about wife hunting and the Countess of Wessex' cousin.'

She grinned feral.

Jasper raised another eyebrow.

'Ah yes,' he nodded. 'Something biblical was being said as well. Because we all know how much you _love_ to attend service.'

 _Of course they are all in on the plot._

He groaned, flipping both his sister and his – if it was up to him never bloody ever – brother-in-law the finger.

'Laugh while you can, my lovelies,' he said threateningly. 'Especially you, sister dearest. I'm going to see what Mother wants and then I'll show you lot who's King, bloody uncouth degenerates.'

Liam opened his mouth to say something smart, but one look from Robert had him close it again.

 _At least I have this one trained well._

He gave his other sibling – the ill-bred one – and the _American_ – bloody hillbilly – another fierce glare.

'Assholes,' he muttered as he stalked away, in search of his mother.

He found her near the fountain, in the company of an older fellow – graying hair and glasses, Robert recognized him immediately as the Archbishop of Canterbury and sighed. The man had a daughter his age and had at the beginning of the little get-together subtly let him known she was both of marrying age and very much single – and – _Gods forbid it_ – Poppy. He could barely hide his groan of irritation as his mother spotted him and beckoned him over.

'Robert,' she said smoothly. 'We were just discussing you.'

 _I bet you were._

He smiled, all teeth and no joy, and extended a hand to the bishop.

'I hope my mother and the young lady have not been bothering you, bishop,' he said, 'because I know from experience they are quite the chatterboxes, especially the maiden.'

He eyed Poppy sharply; she smirked at him, had the audacity to wink.

'We were actually just talking your marriage,' she grinned.

'Or better, lack thereof,' his mother added.

The two of them were smiling at him, and they were both terrifying in their own ways. Which was the lesser of two evils, he had no clue.

'I am sure the bishop did not come all the way here to speak of my romantic relations,' he started to say and again his mother smartly added, 'Or lack thereof.'

Poppy snorted behind her hand.

'Actually,' the bishop interjected, 'the lady had something extremely interesting to say.'

 _I bet she had._ _When I get her_ alone…

He practically leered at her, making a mental note to visit Cyrus' old torture chambers with her. He was certain there were some devious devices there, capable of delivering to her exactly the amount of agony he was wishing upon her at the moment. Perhaps the Iron Chair? Or the Head Crusher?

 _Yes!_

He smirked.

Head Crusher would do.

He missed part of the conversation as his imagination got the best of him and his mother tutted displeased.

'Pay attention, Robert,' she said sharply. 'It is, after all, your future wife we are discussing.'

 _What?_

He kept his face straight, but for the quirked eyebrow.

'Excuse me?' he asked flatly. Glanced at Poppy. She avoided his gaze and he worriedly frowned.

 _Double what?_

'I was pleasantly surprised when she suggested it,' the bishop continued. 'And I think it's wonderful that you are so devoted to both the Faith and the Monarchy to go about it in such a way.'

'Am I?' he asked. 'Devoted to both the Faith and the Monarchy?'

'Of course you are, Robert,' his mother smiled. 'Therefore your commitment to finding a wife the Biblical way is commendable.'

She took his hand in both of hers – and _for fuck's sake,_ his mother was scaring the bejesus out of him.

'I am proud of you, my Son,' she said sweetly. 'My _King_.'

'The Biblical way?' he repeated.

And he swore to all that was holy that if Poppy dared to laugh, dared to make one bit of a sound, he would murder her right where she stood.

 _With my bloody bare hands._

'Yes, dearest,' his mother smiled. 'You _are_ of course the supreme governor of the Church of England so it is only right you find yourself a wife the _biblical_ way.'

'Only right,' the Archbishop of Canterbury repeated, nodding almost feverishly.

He stared at all three of them, disbelieving. But his mother looked incredibly smug, the Archbishop positively giddy and Poppy –

That bloody _tart_ was actually amused.

Her wide eyes weren't frightened. They were amused.

Bloody twinkling.

Fucking _amused._

That bloody bint.

'Calliope here has not only contributed to this wonderful idea,' Helena continued, 'but as a member of the Government Communications Headquarters had also offered her assistance in finding you a wife.'

'The biblical way, of course,' Poppy added and even if the others didn't notice, her mirth was obvious to Robert.

Some response was required, he knew as they all looked at him, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed and it felt like he was trying to stuff the entire Sahara down his throat.

His mother hooked her arm through the bishop's.

'At least one of my children,' she told him as she pulled him in a different direction, away from her son and Poppy, most likely noticing the throbbing vein above Robert's temple, 'knows how to choose his partner wisely.'

'Ah, yes,' the bishop could be seen nodding. 'The Princess and that _American…'_

'Don't even get me started,' the Queen Mother sighed dramatically.

Robert stared after them for a moment, his heart thumping.

He thought of two years ago, of sitting in Cartizze and punching that same _American._ Remembered hiring the _American_ as his bodyguard, pushing him towards his sister and therefore inviting the man into his life.

And he turned slowly towards Poppy, eyes narrowed.

Inviting _that_ into his life.

 _Should've just let Len be miserable. Should've banished Jasper from the country._

'Just so you know, Robert,' she started, and she at least had the grace to look abashed. 'This was not the plan. Everybody just kept asking us whether you had a girlfriend, who you were romantically involved with, if there would be wedding bells in the near future. So we just rolled with it. With the Countess and some others. With your mother.'

She smirked, unable to keep the façade of guiltiness up.

 _Demons have no conscience._

'I had no idea your mother would take it seriously. Or that he was the Archbishop of Canterbury.'

 _The large pectoral cross wasn't a dead giveaway? Or his bloody episcopal ring?_

He stared at her, not knowing what to say.

'But,' she continued. 'I'm not sure how yet, but we'll get you out of this mess. Eleanor and Jasper will know what to do. Or Ashok. Certainly Gemma has a plan. Someone.'

She smiled at him, a captivating showing off of two perfect rows of white teeth meant to sweep him off his feet. He wasn't falling for it.

 _Bloody devil's spawn, this one._

'So,' he eventually said, uncomfortably, after a long silence. 'Your full name is Calliope. _And what the fuck is_ the Biblical way?'


	2. ACT I - Part I - David, Onan and Boaz

**This is all COMPLETELY in jest. Nothing is serious about this story. Just thought I'd let you guys know again. Because it's getting bloody ridiculous.**

* * *

 **ACT I.**

 **Ahasuerus**

 **Part I.**

David, Onan & Boaz

He'd been in a right mood ever since the garden party – banishing Jasper to the children's table and forcing the man to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner with Mister Hill's _extremely_ _delightful_ little pigtailed rakshasa hadn't even managed to improve that, though the sight of the two of them, Sarah Alice ecstatic and Jasper positively cramped, as the girl fed him bits of scrambled eggs and forced him to drink tea with her, also hadn't ceased to satisfy him immensely.

 _The only positive part of my life nowadays. Laughing at my bodyguard's misery._

Because he had his own half-pint cacodemon sitting across from him, face leaning on the palm of her hands, looking for all intents like the cat that's got the cream, with a bloody Bible – and the paradoxical contrast wasn't lost on Robert – between them. She had it filled with sticky notes, wiggling her eyebrows at him expectantly, but he wasn't inclined to respond to her – not even one bloody bit – because she was the Devil, this was the Bible and he was definitely going to burn in Hell, just for sitting there.

'What do you think, Robert?' she asked, when she realized he wasn't going to speak first.

 _Because her plan was bloody ridiculous - and maybe slightly appealing to him, because of - obviously -_ females - _but no, she was bloody ridiculous and so was her plan._

And he still wasn't entirely sure what the Biblical way was and in all honesty, there was some nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that this was just some elaborate plot she had concocted to marry him herself – and that'd mean #KingLiam would be back in full effect, because he'd rather abdicate and spend the rest of his life on a deserted – been there, done that – island than in holy matrimony with this malefic _ogre._

He grunted and she arched a carefully plucked eyebrow at him.

It truly was a shame she was actually pretty decent looking. Had he not known her, he might've thought she was quite a catch. But the moment she opened her mouth all such notions went flying out of the window.

 _Such wasted beauty._

'Are you done staring?' she asked and he grunted again.

'I am not staring,' he replied, 'just wondering how a pleasing-looking package can contain such an atrocious character.'

'I feel like your corruption should be made visible,' he continued. 'You know, to warn off potential suitors. Perhaps a tattoo on your forehead, saying "I am evil".'

She laughed, quite loudly, and he smirked at her.

'Well,' she said, 'at least you're honest.'

'Yes, because your dishonesty landed me in this situation.'

'Actually,' she grinned, 'your lack of romantic relations landed _you_ in this situation. My, in hindsight not so smart, wit and big mouth landed _me_ in it.'

'I have romantic relations. Just not publicly.'

'Sure you do,' she nodded and already he felt the need to throttle her. Or maybe the feeling had just never left.

 _Throttle, throttle, throttle._

Soothing to repeat in the safety of his mind. Maybe one day he'd act upon the thought and blame it on temporary insanity. _Runs in the family, Lord Chief, just look at my uncle Cyrus._ To escape prosecution altogether he could simply ask the Grand Duchess to get rid of the body. Apparently she was good at covering up murders and he _was_ , after all, her favorite grandchild. Not much competition there, though, because _honestly,_ who else was she going to choose? The drug-abusing Princes _not_ -dating the bodyguard or the wimpy blonde, who despite being one of a twin, looked like he was conceived by an entirely different set of sperm – _Alistair, Alistair, Alis –_

Poppy was speaking and he – once again – wasn't listening, his eye on the telly behind her.

'They are showing it again,' he informed her. And _it_ was his bloody announcement to the entire fucking Kingdom that he was serious about this nation, serious about its people – _his people_ – and serious about his responsibilities as the Supreme Governor of the Church of England, which – and as he watched himself speak those words for the umpteenth time, he still felt the bile rising – meant finding a wife the Biblical way and securing an heir – _Gods forbid Eleanor or Liam should take the throne after him._ He was quite certain his country would perish.

'Every time I see it,' he said, 'it just gets worse.'

Poppy shrugged.

'At least you look good,' she said.

 _I always look good._

He eyed the Bible on the table again and she saw.

'What do you think, Robert?' she asked again and they were right back at the beginning, when she had asked first and he had let his mind stray.

'I think you're bollocks,' he said slowly. 'Not right in the head.'

 _And maybe, just maybe a bloody genius._

Because after she had made him announce his Biblical search for a wife on national television – and he wasn't certain which was worse, almost dying in an airplane crash and spending months on a deserted island, or _that_ act of wickedness -, throwing her newly appointed job title as his Royal GCHQ liaison – _thank you, Mother_ – in his face, her latest plot actually did not sound that bad.

It was bad, without a doubt, just not _that_ bad.

Just _bloody ridiculous._

'Read it to me again, demon,' and if she took affront to him calling her that – in all honesty, he had thought and said much worse the past few days – she didn't show it. Just opened the Bible between them and leafed through the pages until she found the right one.

 _Esther 2:2-4a._

'Then the king's servants who attended him said: "Let beautiful young virgins be sought for the king.'

She looked at him, one side of her mouth lifted in what Robert could only describe as predatory.

'I know you are not a virgin, so don't even think about it,' he snapped, then motioned for her to keep reading.

She dutifully did so, but not before winking at him.

 _Cheeky git._

He liked her better, two years before, when she was still in awe of his general greatness and her only affront to his person had been trying to poison him with cheap whiskey and bad dancing.

 _Rue those days._

'Let the king appoint officers in all the provinces of his kingdom,' she continued. 'That they may gather all the beautiful young virgins to Shushan the citadel, into the women's quarters, under the custody of Hegai the king's eunuch, custodian of the women. And let beauty preparations be given them. Then let the young woman who pleases the king be queen instead of Vashti.'

'And who was Vashti again?' he asked.

'The original Queen,' she answered. 'The one who defied the King and was therefore demoted to the harem.'

 _Kathryn._

He didn't want to think it, but the name flashed through his mind before he could stop himself.

'We could always kill Liam and then take Willow,' Poppy continued obliviously. 'Like David and Onan. But I reckon fratricide would be frowned upon by the British people.'

And perhaps she really was a demon, because her words had already happened.

 _Except he'd been the one dead and Liam had taking_ his _girl._

No use dwelling on the past, though. They were _all_ over it. And _she_ was engaged, and Liam had Willow and bloody hell, he was sitting here concocting some elaborate scheme to find him a wife the Biblical way.

 _Perhaps he should've stayed on that damned island._

'Not too late, Robert,' he muttered to himself. 'Never too late.'

She gave him a look, rolled her eyes at him.

'We're not going to kill Liam,' she said sharply, misinterpreting his words. He didn't bother to correct her, replied with a sarky, 'too bad.'

She had no clue whether he was serious or not and he reveled in his victory. She looked a bit nervous too and he was pleased.

 _Very pleased._

 _Don't forget who's King, young lady. If I could kill my brother for a wife, imagine what I'd do to you._

His thoughts made him chuckle darkly and yeah, maybe he was less of a Simon and more of a Cyrus, as Jasper was always ready to point out.

 _But who didn't love a bad guy? A bloody good-looking one to add._

'What are you proposing then?' he asked, when the silence became too uncomfortable, even for him.

Poppy released a breath he hadn't realized she'd been holding – _yes,_ yet another victory – and her infuriating smirk was quick to reappear.

'We're going to do the same thing,' she said. 'Only Shushan will be the Royal Ascot and the eunuch will be me.'

'You, of course, will still be the King,' she added, as if that much wasn't clear.

'So you're going to find me virgins, parade them to me at the horse races and at the end of the Royal Ascot I'm supposed to marry one of them.'

He had always been bloody good at summarizing.

Poppy shook her head.

'They're not going to be virgins, obviously,' she said. 'But the rest sounds about right.'

He scoffed and she laughed.

'Of course you're not going to marry them after spending five days with them,' she said. 'But it is in the Bible, so it is the Biblical way. A beauty contest of sorts to win the heart of the King. And who knows, maybe at the end of the Royal, you'll actually like one of them.

'It's basically a win-win,' she said. 'The Kingdom is _waiting_ for you to make a move' – 'thanks you and your yapping to the Queen Mother and the Archbishop' and she shrugged, saying, 'Potatoes, potatoes, who's keeping count' – 'and the people will _love_ this.

'It'll give every girl a chance to live out her dream: becoming a Princess.'

'My wife will actually be a Queen,' he corrected, but again, 'Potatoes, potatoes.'

She was positively _pestiferous_ , _potatoes, potatoes, po-fuck off._

'It'll make you seem approachable,' she said. 'The people will love it, the Archbishop can't complain because it is the Biblical way and your mother will be ecstatic, because you _know_ she wants to secure the Royal line.'

'You're basically proposing the Bachelor, Royal Edition,' he said. 'How is that Biblical?'

She tapped the open Bible impatiently.

'It is in the bloody Bible,' she snapped, 'therefore it is Biblical.'

'So is killing Liam and marrying Willow,' he said.

'I know,' she replied. 'But _that_ is actually punishable by law.'

'I can see this blowing up in so many ways,' he muttered. 'So we're not doing this. No matter how much I would love to have a dozen virgins fawning over me for five days.'

'It won't blow up,' she said, ignoring his virgin-comment. 'Because I am going to fix this. And nothing I do ever goes wrong.'

 _I can think of a couple of bloody examples of your fuck-ups, the latest being the reason we're sitting here, devil child._

But before he could voice any of his thoughts, that diabolical smirk of hers was staring at him again, mocking him, and for fuck's sake, he was already scared of what she was going to say next.

'I already cleared it with your mother and she's going to convince the Archbishop,' she said. 'Tomorrow morning we'll film the announcement and broadcast it, I'll sent out the invitations and if you're a good boy, I might even show you which lovely ladies will be attending.'

She smiled at him – the broad one, the toothpaste, charming smile – and he ran a hand through his hair.

Because how the _fuck_ had she already selected his dozen or so virgins _and_ had his mother agreeing to this insanity?

Who was she?

 _What_ was she?!

There was no way he was going to win this. He contemplated throwing a tantrum. But he was a _King._ Even though a bloody plebeian troll had him by the balls, he was still a _King._ He would act dignified. Not show his annoyance. Not kill her. Not threaten to deport one of her five hundred brothers – who even had five bloody brothers, four disastrous acts of judgement, a fifth because Four Horsemen apparently weren't enough and then the bloody _apocalypse_ herself – and blackmail her.

He simply tapped his fingers on the table, calm and collected.

'You know,' he said slowly. 'I think we should just kill Liam.'

Why not?

Prison couldn't be worse than this.


	3. ACT I - Part II - Solomon & Cain

**More nonsense. Yay. I love nonsense. Also, have to add. I love the show's Robert. I want to adopt, shrink him, put him in my pocket and carry him around everywhere I go, so we can say mean things about people together.** **Also, I've been wondering: does anyone know Willow's last name?**

 **As always, thank you for reading! I hope you'll stick around.**

* * *

 **ACT I.**

 **Ahasuerus**

 **Part II.**

Solomon & Cain

There were reporters everywhere and _she_ was _no_ where and for fuck's sake, he was going to drown in camera flashes and feminine attention. He had to admit, they were _gorgeous_ , so well played, Poppy, but there were bloody forty-eight of them – one for every ceremonial county - and where the hell was his fucking eunuch to help him control the herd?

He wondered if hate was a strong enough word to describe the emotion he felt for Poppy right now.

Jasper stood a couple of feet away, bloody grateful – if the look on his twitterpated face was anything to go by – that for once, during their public appearances, he and the Princess weren't the center of attention. When he noticed Robert's frenzied attempts at making eye contact, he winked, kissing Eleanor gently on the lips while not removing his gaze from Robert.

A clear message, then.

No help here.

 _Bloody prick._

Jasper, in the last weeks, was steadily proving to be a shit excuse of a bodyguard. Never mind the bloke was off duty. They'd have words, later.

 _Serious words._

 _Seriously violent words._

'Ladies,' Robert smiled charmingly, pushing his discontentment with Jasper aside for the moment, but he had been smiling all day and his jaw was starting to hurt.

'One at a time please. I would love to give you all attention, but I can't do that if I can't' – _bloody hell_ – 'hear you.'

They giggled in unison, but they did seem to get the message, as they stopped screeching all at once and the plucking and prodding ceased altogether.

 _Thank God._

He fished his phone from his jacket pocket – which turned out to be quite the hassle as the two fillies – it was so hard to refer to them as Ladies, when they behaved like proper bits – attached to his arms were unwilling to let go for fear of one of the other five thousand or so popsies taking their place, but eventually he managed – and checked to see if he had any messages from his own personal scapegrace. Of course there were none.

He considered calling her, but that would appear desperate and would only give her more ammunition to use against him. He shot her a quick text – _where are you, fiend_ – and then wholly focused his attention back on the girls.

Ladies.

Females.

Virgins – though that was doubtful.

 _Fucking serpents._

In all honesty, he was done. Bloody done. This was only the first day of the Ascot, but already he was exhausted beyond comparison. He'd thought to go about his business like all the years before. Watching the races, placing some bets, more often than not cashing in on those bets because he was simply bloody brilliant and just mingling in general. In theory he could still do so, but reality had proven this was blessedly hard to do with forty bloody eight girls trailing after your behind. All of whom were one hundred percent uninterested in horses and racing, but who were all two hundred percent completely invested in him.

 _And my crown._

He wasn't a complete bleeding idiot.

Though most of the day he had felt like one.

 _Regret. Should've never_ ever _given into Poppy and the diabolical madness her brain managed to conjure up._

He'd had no quality time whatsoever with his mates – who were both jealous of him and laughing at his predicament – and the only time he'd had somewhat of a moment to himself was when he'd gone to the loo. He'd taken a suspiciously long time, sitting on the sink with his phone in his lap, watching cat-videos on Facebook, and upon his return he'd had to break up a catfight between Cumbria and Tyne and Wear – he could not for the love of God remember their names and had taken to calling them by their respective counties – over the ownership of half a smoked fag he'd disposed of before going to the toilet. He hadn't been certain whether to be appalled or flattered. He'd gone for a bizarre mix of both.

Both had kept a safe distance afterwards, though, and he figured he'd resolved the squabble quite well.

'Robert,' the girl on his left started. 'Shall we get something to eat?'

And just like that, they were back at it again.

 _Robert, I've got a really nice dessert for you._

 _I'll give you a_ hard, wooden spoon, _Robbie._

 _Need me to rub your_ meat?

 _I'm in the mood for some Finger Marie_ – and he almost choked on his beer because he was positive that _her_ name was Marie and was she _really_ suggesting what he thou –

She winked at him salaciously.

Bloody hell, had they no _propriety?_

 _Calliope, you flaming blackguard, where the ruddy hell are you?_

She was attractive, though, this Rutland _Marie_ , and when he was younger he had immensely enjoyed Fingers Maries.

 _Extra sauce._

He grinned, resuming his trek towards the Royal Enclosure, determined on claiming a spot in the Grandstand and watching the final race of the day. His entourage followed dutifully. He felt only slightly guilty when he left most of them in the grand Enclosure Gardens, spread wide and deep, before choosing four to accompany him up to the fourth floor of the Grandstand. They had bothered him least all day and he reckoned he could handle their company a few moments longer.

 _Barely._

Also, the press would love it. They'd most likely label the four as his favorites and the ensuing speculation and gossip would keep the tabloids and social media occupied for at least forty eight hours, giving him a well-earned reprieve of all the madness and the hope – of a chimera – that perhaps tomorrow he could watch all the races with a pint in his hand and the jovial company of his mates.

The Grandstand offered a great view of the racing track. Robert had missed the opening races already – and he just _knew_ Queen Anne – rest her soul – would make him suffer for it, one way or the other – and he was damned if he was also missing the Saint James's Palace Stakes. The last race of the day.

 _No way, José. Not happening._

His mother and siblings were already there. He expressly ignored both Eleanor and her man candy, passing them by in favor of ruffling Liam's hair and kissing his mother on the forehead. He almost forgot about Willow, but circled back round to where she was seated next to Eleanor and pinched her cheek. His back was turned to his sister and he used the moment to glare at Jasper, mouthing exaggeratedly, 'I am going to kill you.'

 _You better read my lips, bastard. You're a dead man. Fuck_ words.

'Mother, Brother, good-sister and others.' Another scowl in Jasper's general direction. 'These lovely Ladies are Dorset, Kent, Surrey and Suffolk.'

They curtsied and he could hear Eleanor snort. Was of a mind to do so himself.

'He can't remember us by our names,' Surrey explain with a grin. 'So he calls us by our county.'

'How is that easier?' Willow scrunched up her nose in confusion and had anyone else asked such a ridiculous question, he would've cuffed them, but his brother's girlfriend was simply too damn charming and innocent – like a bloody kitten – so he found himself humoring her – _like the perfect gentleman I am, lest no one ever forget_.

He beckoned Surrey closer and pointed at her silk blouse.

'See. They wear their crests on their chest. Blessedly easy to remember, since I've been drilled in coats of arms and whatnot ever since –'

He saw movement behind Willow and his eyes widened.

'You profligate buffoon,' he thundered. 'Where have you been all bloody day?'

All heads turned to him. He saw shocked and somewhat nervy faces and he sneered menacingly.

 _Be afraid, be very afraid._

The only one – of course – not showing any sign of discomfort – who else? – was _her_.

 _Bloody Caliope_ etiam _Poppy the stinker._

'Robert,' she enthused. 'You look absolutely dashing today.'

'Save it,' he snapped. 'Where have you been?'

 _Fucking miscreant._

'You were supposed to be my eunuch,' he complained. 'And instead you left me to fend for myself with these, _these_ – '

'These lovely Ladies of which four are standing right behind you,' she smiled.

'Yes,' he gnarled. 'Exactly what I wanted to say. You're a bleeding mind reader, love.'

Eleanor snorted again. He made a mental note to remove her from his will.

Willow had drawn the girls in what seemed pleasant conversation, so Robert climbed over the chairs and grabbed Poppy by the arm.

'With me,' he growled. 'Now.'

And it seemed like, for fuck's sake, he was not going to watch the Saint James's Palace Stakes either. Bloody _waste_ of a day.

He pulled her into the hallway, pushed her into a corner near the stairs.

'Forty-fucking-eight, Poppy?' he hissed. 'Seriously?'

She smirked and shrugged. Tried to slide away from him, but he drove the palm of his hand almost through the wall, halting her escape.

'Well.' She eyed both of his arms besides her head. 'You have me effectively trapped.'

'Forty-eight,' he repeated.

She threw up her hands and tried to create some space between them.

He practically snarled and pushed closer instead. 'They're all giggling bints with more feather than brains. Are you trying to have me commit a murder, Poppy?'

'Don't be so picky, Robbie.' She smirked. 'Quantity over quality. Just like Solomon in the Bible. What did you think? That you'd just be wandering around the tracks and then miraculously would find a wife?'

She snorted. 'You're not Cain. You need to _work_ to keep up appearances.'

'But forty-eight,' he groaned. 'It's ridiculous. They're fighting, they're exhausting and they won't bloody leave me alone.'

'Everything comes with a price.'

'I never asked for you meddling in my love life,' he snapped, 'and the price I'm paying for it is way too high. I haven't even seen one bloody race all damn day.'

They were nose to nose, her aloofness only fueling his frustration.

Something flashed and he whipped his head around. Saw a photographer run down the stairs, practically giddy.

 _God-fucking-damnit._

'King assaulting GCHQ-liaison in a dark corner,' she grinned. 'That'll be a great headline tomorrow.'

He growled.

'Why are you so fucking infuriating?'

'Why do you have suck a massive stick up your arse?'

He ran a hand through his hair. He needed a haircut. He _wanted_ a haircut but the public had voted they liked his curls longer and as King he was in service to his people. Haircut what? Bloody think again. _King._

And that bint was fucking _laughing_ at him.

'This might be funny to you, Poppy, but it's my life. I need to rule a Kingdom. I have national and foreign politics that need regulating. My PM wants nothing more than to abolish the monarchy. The _people_ want a Royal marriage, my mother wants an heir and now thanks to you I need to all of the above the Biblical way?' He sighed.

'You show up with forty-eight fucking girls and they're driving me nuts. And then I remember I'm supposed to bloody marry one of them or at least _indulge_ them and fuck, I can't deal with that, Poppy. I'm a King but I'm also a lad and I want to watch the horse races and drink a pint with my mates and just bloody fucking not _this_.'

He was dimly aware he might be having some sort of mental breakdown – and if he was honest to himself, it had been long in the making, ever since the Archbishop had placed that sodding crown on his head. Since it had become public knowledge his _sister_ was dating, but not dating, the _bodyguard._ Since Kathryn. Since _everything._

He only then noticed the hand on his wrist, fingers curled around his arm. She was soothingly rubbing his thumb, her eyes on his face.

No judgement there.

'I assure you, Robert,' she said solemnly. 'That I take this serious, without reservation.'

'The ultimate goal is pleasing the Church, your mother and the people. And if it's up to me, we'll achieve that goal without putting a ring on _anyone's_ finger. Believe me, over my dead body that I will let you marry or _indulge_ any of these girls.'

She pouted. 'Maybe Surrey, she seems really nice.'

'I've known you for over two years, Robert. And you're a good man. A good King. And I'd be a very bad GCHQ liaison if I didn't consider your wants and needs in this venture. We just don't let anyone else know that this is all a facade.'

'If you'd just kept your bloody mouth shut, there would not have been a _venture_ nor the necessity of a _facade_.'

She grinned. 'If I'd kept my bloody mouth shut, I would not be making this paper right now.' She tapped him on the nose and he jerked back, because - _what?! -_ had she really hit him with an American pop culture reference? 'Truly, your mother pays GCHQ liaisons extraordinarily well.'

He rolled her eyes at her. She was still rubbing circles on his wrist and he sighed. He rested his head against hers, if only for a moment.

'Fine,' he grumbled. 'I'll pretend to enjoy myself. And I'll pretend to trust you.'

He grabbed her by the chin, stared her dead in the eye.

'But I don't trust you. I think you're a malevolent spirit crawled out of the darkest depths of hell to make my life miserable. Just so we're clear on that.'

She was clearly intimidated by him.

 _Of course she wasn't. Accursed devil's spalpeen._

She released his right arm and ducked beneath the left. Sauntered back towards the heavy doors opening up to the fourth floor balconies of the Grandstand.

'I love you too, Robert,' she said mockingly.

He could hear loud cheering coming through the doors and the announcer, in a rare display of fervor, cried out, 'Saint James's Palace Stakes winner: Go for Gin!'

'Ah,' Poppy grinned. 'Your mother's horse won.' She wagged a finger at him, tutted disapprovingly. 'A shame you missed it.'

 _Father, please grant me patience to deal with this nefarious dryad._

He was going to kill her before the end of the Royal Ascot. He was certain of it.

'And please, Robert.' She smiled at him over her shoulder. 'Don't finger Marie.'


	4. ACT I - Part III - Hosea

_And another one. I'm excited for both the new Royals episode and the NFL Conference Championships. Obviously I'm #teamRobert and #teamSteelers. Pretty sure that the brother who wins the boxing match, will lose the girl. But I guess we'll just have to wait and see._

 _Thank you guys for reading and reviewing. You're too kind!_

* * *

 **ACT I.**

 **Ahasuerus**

 **Part III.**

Hosea

He had slept until noon. If Liam hadn't come banging on his door, he probably would've slept longer. Not because he was _that_ tired – which he _was_ , mind you – but he simply was _not_ – not, not, _not_ – in the mood for another day of tittering and giggling and whatever else his tavern wenches were prone to do. He had taken to calling them that after three of them had gotten shitfaced drunk on champagne, had wanted to show him the champagne room – even though Poppy had insisted there was _no sex in the champagne room_ – yet another American pop culture reference only she understood – and later on they, as a unified front, had barfed all over Jasper's front when he went to collect them from the Ascot Bar.

 _The highlight of my day._

Because Jasper's misery was Robert's joy.

 _As it should be._

The day, however, seemed more gently-paced than the one before and Robert, though he was loath to admit, was indeed enjoying himself. He had an ice-cold foaming pint in one hand and Surrey – perhaps Poppy had been right; the girl _was_ nice – was playing with the ring on his other while engaging him in pleasant conversation - even though at the moment he wasn't given her his full undivided attention. She was gracious enough to pretend not to notice. He liked that.

They were lounging near the Parade Ring, all of them, and Robert took a moment to simply enjoy the moment. Beck, Gemma and Ashok were captivated by Willow, who was telling them the story of her love confession to Liam, while his younger brother stood a bit to the side, leaning against the railing with Jasper, the two of them looking for all intents fitter than Robert was comfortable with.

 _I, after all, am the best-looking bloke of the Commonwealth and let none dare say different._

They took the attention of the press away from him, though, and he decided he couldn't be bothered. He sent Jasper a text though.

 _Button up, vagabond._

Which the man did. The Kingdom was _not_ in need of pictures of half-naked bodyguards. Especially not when the entire nation knew Eleanor was shagging said bodyguard.

He grimaced at the thought and took a drag from his beer to chase the matching image away.

'Placed your bet yet, My Liege?'

He had already told her earlier to call him Robert, but she insisted on his formal title. He didn't correct her anymore. Perhaps secretly he liked it. Judging by the twinkle in her eyes everytime she said, he assumed she was very well aware he liked it. _The shrew_.

 _My liege._

He'd wish his siblings would address him this way.

 _As was proper._

He smirked and showed her his bet slip, firmly held in the same hand as his beer – his two most important possessions this afternoon –, slightly damp with beer but most definitely the winning slip. The Group One Prince of Wales's Stakes was _the most important_ horse race of the entire event. Appropriate, since it was _his_ race - Liam had made complaints that it should be his title - _Prince of Wales -_ but Robert had quickly reminded him that even though his brother was next in line now, he would always be just the _spare_ \- and he'd be damned to miss it. Especially not since his own Thoroughbred Prince Robert – and no one would fault the King of England his narcissism – was to compete. The black colt – not a colt anymore, but a _stallion,_ Robert reminded himself – was new to the field, having only ran three other races before, but Robert had faith in his namesake. Better yet, the odds of the Prince winning were _unheard_ of.

 _Outlandishly high and outlandishly_ mine.

Some of the other counties were chatting amongst themselves. Eleanor had found a friend in Cumbria and Robert wasn't surprised. They were both not the full shilling and as long as they weren't bothering him, he considered it a blessing. But best of all was the absence of his dark-haired pest, who he hadn't seen since their little _altercation_ in the hallway the day before. He was already dreading her unpreventable return, but for now he was simply enjoying the peace and quiet.

He was grateful, though. Overnight she had gotten rid of twelve of his admirers, no doubt with help from his mother who'd had a few choice words to spare for the three alkies, Oxfordshire in particular. The girls he was left with were particularly more stable of mind than them, with the exception of Cumbria.

'It's starting,' Ashok cried out as the first horses were led into the Parade Ring. Surrey cheered softly and, grinning, he pulled her closer. She looked up surprised, but nestled herself more comfortably against his side.

 _Female company, a pint and horse racing. Am I in heaven?_

He leaned against the railing and breathed in deeply. He loved the smell of horses. Especially when said horses were about to make him a lot of money. He saw his own horse being led onto the circuit and smirked. The animal was already high-strung, more so than the others. Thoroughbreds were made to race and carrying a jockey on its back was only secondary. Prince Robert also had a tendency to bite – _much like his owner_ – making it even easier to pick him from a crowd. As if his jet black coat wasn't obvious enough.

The Prince's trainer had advised him to castrate the horse, but Robert would hear none of it. He applauded his horse's temper and he eventually planned to retire him as a stud. Therefore, the Prince was to remain intact.

 _No one's touching our balls, God be damned._

The horse's attendant waved at Robert when he recognized him and Robert nodded in return. He smirked when the bloke needed two hands to rein in the horse. Jim Crowley, the Prince's jockey, grinned as well and stopped near Robert and Surrey.

'Wotcha,' he said almost fraternally. Robert smiled and clasped his arm in greeting.

And _thank the bloody lord_ none of the press were near, because a _commoner_ addressing him with " _wotcha"_ …

 _Bloody unheard of_ and he'd rather keep it that way.

Not that Jim was just a commoner. Robert respected him. The man was a hard worker. One didn't become _Champion Jockey_ by lazing about.

'This's the future wife then?' Jim asked, never one to mince his words.

 _Berkshire halfwit._

'Who knows.' Surrey smiled graciously before Robert could respond.

 _And you signed your own death warrant, doll._

The other counties were looking at them, eyes narrowed. Robert gave them the stink eye - _jealous banshees_ -, but followed up with a sassy wink.

 _Keep up pretenses._ He could practically hear Poppy's voice in his head.

He sighed and shook his head. 'Let's move to the Furlong Club.'

The Royal family always watched the Stakes in their private box at the Grandstand, but Wednesdays traditionally attracted a smaller crowd and the Furlong brought them closer to the tracks. It was a somewhat public area – normally too public for his tastes – but today Robert wanted to witness _everything._

 _Have the bloody dirt of the course smear my face._

He clapped Jim on the back. 'Make me proud, mate.' Squeezed his shoulder for good measure. 'Try to stay on and good luck.'

Jim chuckled. 'Seems to me you need the luck more than I do, Your Highness.'

 _And he bloody well was right._

The Furlong Club was the perfect venue to luxuriously enjoy the race. A limited number of people was allowed entry, ensuring uninterrupted views of the track. He did a quick sweep of the place, but concluded Poppy wasn't here either. Hence the absence of dastardly vapour.

Robert, personally, was a great admirer of the Furlong's extensive bar, as, evidently, was Jasper.

'A Scotch, then,' Robert called after him. 'Since you so courteously offered.'

He took position against the banisters and disentangled himself from Surrey. She seemed to disagree, but he turned away from her before she could voice her objections.

 _Freedom._

Just in time because they were off.

And _for fuck's sake,_ Prince was in _good_ position. Around the first bend they raced and Robert gripped the railing tightly. Shouted. They thundered down the track and _bloody hell,_ this was what the Ascot was about. Prince was in third position, four lengths behind, but Jim hadn't even used his whip yet.

 _Hadn't even used his bleeding whip yet!_

Robert knew – _knew_ – they were holding back.

The crowd cried out, _Robert_ cried and they rounded another bend.

Prince moved into second place as Jim pushed him, smooth and hard.

 _Hold the whip, hold the whip._

Then they came into full view again, the last bend of the racecourse.

Robert screamed. 'Whip him!'

The tightening of muscles was a beautiful thing to witness. He could see the pressure building up, very nearly felt the horse coil tightly, surely, patiently.

And then they _exploded_ forward _. Exploded_.

Robert just about exploded as well.

'Seven lengths!' Suddenly there were cameras everywhere. 'Won by seven fucking lengths.' Camera's everywhere because the King's horse won.

 _I bloody won._

He was exuberant, high on whatever and _fuck,_ Surrey was just standing _there._

 _Fuck it. I'm King._

He lifted her up in the air. She squealed, eyes twinkling. Twirled her around.

'My liege.'

Camera's flashing.

 _Man,_ he liked hearing that.

Reporters.

'King Robert, what's your first reaction to the Prince's win?'

He had no idea what possessed him.

 _No bleeding clue._

He kissed her.

 _And fuck._

Fuck.

Fuck.

 _Fuck._

Her hand found the back of his neck and she tangled her fingers in his hair. Held him to her and she was soft and pliable _and_.. She gasped and _what the hell am I doing?_

He pulled back jerkily, stepped away from her, eyes wide. Immediately reporters filled the space between them, pushed her back, out of the circle they had created – _thank God,_ he didn't have to do that – and _fuck._

Eleanor was staring at him, openmouthed. Dismayed, or was it just his imagination? He turned so he couldn't see her anymore and focused all his attention on the reporters. Exhausted himself by answering _all_ of their questions – there were many and _thank God_ only few about that _blighted_ kiss.

 _And all he could hear was_ fuck _._

Afterwards they moved to the Royal's private box, though some of the other counties opted to stay behind. Robert couldn't blame them. He evaded Surrey, though, and collected the Scotch Jasper had gotten him, before settling a distance away from the others, near the parapet.

 _Jesus, what did I do?_

Luckily Poppy hadn't been there. She would have given him hell.

'Jump,' a voice suddenly sounded in his ear.

And jump he did.

 _I knew my bloody luck couldn't last._

And there she was. His infamous trial and burden.

'You know,' Poppy said, leaning back next to him, against the parapet. 'When I said Surrey seemed like a nice girl, I didn't mean be all over her and kiss her in front of the camera's.'

She wasn't pleased. He could tell, no matter how hard she tried to restrain her displeasure.

He smirked and arched an eyebrow.

'What? Jealous?'

She ignored his comment. 'And why didn't you go to your private box? I mean, the _Furlong_ , Robert. Are you _serious_?'

'We're in the private box _now_.' He subtly reminded her to lower her voice, because _people_ could be _listening_.

'Too little, too late.' She pushed passed him and groaned. 'How the hell am I going to explain this to the press? What will the _people_ say?'

'You've been missing all damn day. Don't start with me now, Poppy.'

'Don't start with you now?' She huffed. 'Robert, you stuffed your tongue down some girl's throat for the whole fucking country to see. I'm going to fucking start right now.'

She breathed in deeply, tried to calm herself. 'Are you insane?' It didn't work. 'You're not some frat boy. You're the Head of the Commonwealth. _Behave like it and keep your fucking dick in your pants._ '

'Are you out of your bloody mind?' he hissed. 'Who do you think you're talking to?'

 _And_ why _are you so damn angry?_

'Apparently an idiot,' she said beneath her breath. 'And _that's_ supposed to rule the country?'

 _Harsh._

'What happened to " _you're a good man, a good King"_? Showing your true colors now, aren't we?'

'What happened to " _I can't deal with this; I don't bloody fucking want this"_?' she shot right back.

He frowned. 'You got me into this mess, so don't play high and mighty with me now.'

She chuckled mirthlessly. 'Of course. I am the one who forced you to kiss some girl you only _just_ met while there were camera's _every_ where.'

He spun away from her, agitated, but she grabbed his hand. She rotated him back around and pulled him closer by his shirt studs. He flinched and pulled away when he felt her nails digging into the back of his hand, but she had a strong grip.

 _Where the_ fuck _was Jasper? Worst bodyguard ever._

She was positively molesting him, _the wretched niggard._

'I get it, Robert.' Her tone was much gentler then before and perhaps she had a better control of her temper then he'd initially thought. 'But that doesn't mean I can't be pissed about it. The media is going to have a field day with this. Your mother will fancy herself the youngest looking grandmother of the country and the people will demand a marriage.'

She ran a hand through her hair. Pinched the bridge of her nose. 'You're a King. An _unmarried_ King. Any girl you're seen in public with is a potential wife. Let alone a girl you _kiss_ at an event organized _specifically_ to find you a wife. You _cannot_ do shit like that. It sends out the wrong signals. _Mixed_ signals.'

He could see her anger bleeding away as she looked at him. He dared a smile, which she answered in kind. He couldn't suppress the smug smirk.

 _No one could ever resist my charm._

He turned his hand around in hers, so he could clasp it between both of his. Her fingers curled around his right thumb and she repeated the same motions of yesterday. Rubbed soothing circles. And he sighed.

'You're right, okay.'

 _And I'm sorry._

But her face closed off again and her expression became unreadable. She pulled back her hand. He could recognize her false smile from miles away and turned to see what she was looking at.

'Surrey, how _are_ you?' Poppy hugged the girl, rigid and impersonal. Surrey didn't seem to notice nor care. Poppy scowled at Robert. 'We'll talk later.'

 _I will slay you._

He shuddered. The hidden threat was obvious in her tone. He should have her arrested for bullying the King of England.

 _Damned repudiated grimalkin._

'That was _amazing_.' Surrey took his attention away from Poppy's retreating back. She leaned her head against his shoulder. _Smiled._

 _How the hell am I going to get rid of this one?_

Like an adult, was the obvious answer.

 _Tell her you got caught up in the moment, apologize and thank her for her service._

Surrey entwined her fingers with his. Her hand was colder than Poppy's. He angled himself away from her, but she simply moved with him.

 _Perhaps easier said than done._

He looked down at the racecourse, Surrey contently slanted against him, and yeah, _mixed signals._

 _Congratulations, England. Your Monarch is a bleeding imbecile._

He should just purchase a prostitute and marry her.


	5. ACT I - Part IV - James 4:11

_Originally one chapter, but after re-reading and "editing" decided to split it into two. Expect the next chapter tonight._

 _Loved Sebastian, loved Robert, loved Willow and Robert – oh Lord have mercy on my poor soul. Loved the ending, Helena & Jack, Spencer & Helena, Liam & Robert, Robert & Kathryn, Liam & Cyrus, Say something & Who this? – which in my mind is the only adequate reply to Eleanor's text. And don't even get me started on Sebas. I almost began rooting for Eleanor to start dating him. _

_Really curious about Robert and Willow, though. Maybe now that Robbie has taken an "interest" Liam will recognize how awesome she is._

 _"I know **you** 're going to keep getting **back up** because that's what **you** do, but I will keep putting **you** back **down** , and I don't want to do that." YESSS! Nearly fell in love with Robert when he said that. Favourite moment of the whole episode. Or maybe when Cyrus spoke to Liam in the hall. "I've lived in the shadow of a hero older brother for long enough to know the feeling that comes from that look. It never goes away." _

_I guess the entire ending was simply my favourite part of the episode._ _And I **finally** figured out that Willow is Pansy Parkinson._

 _Alright, enough gushing. More nonsense up ahead. By the way, does_ anyone know how to summarize all of this? _I cannot figure out a fitting summary._

* * *

 **ACT I**

 **Ahasuerus**

 **Part IV.**

James 4:11

It was a riot. A bloody riot.

BBC News had scheduled an extra broadcast at midnight, #queenofsurrey was trending and the Queen Mother had nearly fainted when E4 replayed the footage of the kiss _again._ They apparently were showing it on infinite loop. Rachel, Willow and Poppy were working overtime and Robert presumed they were trying their best, but for fuck's sake, it was a bloody riot.

'You've done it now, dear brother.' Liam sat across from him, enjoying all of this far too much, while Eleanor had yet to close her mouth. She had been going on and on and _on_ about what an idiot he was ever since they had returned to the Palace. How he was worse than her and _oh, that poor Surrey girl._ Not even Jasper retiring to their bedroom with – what Robert suspected had been – a suggestive look had managed to get her out of his hair. It hadn't shut her up either.

 _If I kill her, I don't even have to remove her from my will._

It was an appealing probability.

Worst – and he never in a million years had thought he would ever admit to that – was that Poppy wasn't speaking to him. He should've preferred the silence, especially after her ominous _we'll talk later,_ but he strangely found it entirely too unnerving and _bloody hell, woman._

 _Just_ talk _to me._

The night passed slowly and one by one they all disappeared into their respective bedrooms. First was Willow, who was off the clock but had graciously offered to help and now looked like she was about to keel over any moment. Soon after the Queen Mother and Liam followed and when eventually Robert went to bed, a little after two, Rachel and Poppy were still holed up in the library and Eleanor had yet to cease her bitching.

He had never in his wildest dreams imagined a simple _kiss_ would elicit such hysteria. But he was a King, already two years past being _just_ a Prince. It was foolish of him not to expect such backlash. To not _consider_ such backlash.

They stayed in the Palace the next day, the remaining counties and the Royal family. Helena had ordered all the tellies to be switched off. Instead of watching Robert's face on the news, they went for a ride through the gardens, enjoyed a nice brunch on the terrace and were all drunk well before noon.

 _A bloody splendid day._

Like children secretly misbehaving they had, giggling uncontrollably, smoked a joint on Eleanor's balcony - several in fact - and he had gotten to know the counties a bit better. Surrey wasn't there - a small mercy - but he discovered Kent was just as crazy about horses as he was and Merseyside had attended the same university as he had, albeit one year behind. Sometime after dusk Jasper had connected to a livestream on his phone and they had all been relieved to find that no one was talking about engagement or marriage anymore. They had a smoked another joint and had sipped wine, until Jasper had kicked them out. When he had finally reached his bed, Robert had been thoroughly satisfied.

Until _she_ barged into his room the next morning, two days _after_ the ill-timed kiss, her hair tied back in a tight bun, mouth a tight line and her five inch heels tapping impatiently against his hardwood floors. He instantly regretted ever wishing she'd talk to him again.

 _The Devil wears Prada._

'Up. Now.' Her hands were on her hips and clearly she still wasn't too pleased with him. Upon closer inspection he saw dark circles underneath her eyes. She probably hadn't slept well. _Served her right_.

He threw back the covers and she narrowed her eyes at him. 'Put some clothes on.' Right. Might be handy. He had intended to amaze her with the sight of his half-naked body – or at least take some of the edge off – but her eyes weren't even straying. Not that he cared much for what _fiendish ogres_ thought of his _perfectly sculpted_ torso.

'I'm good.' He walked past her into his bathroom, where he splashed some water onto his face. After two days he could only imagine what frustrations she had pent up in that tiny body of hers. He looked forward to it. Grinned at his own reflection _._ she was sitting on the edge of his bed when he returned, her legs crossed, looking entirely too prim and proper to actually _be_ Poppy.

'What do you want?'

'What do I want?' She scoffed. 'Sit down.' He felt like a child being chastised and _jesus._

 _I love it._

He sat down on the floor in front of her. Gave her his most innocent look

'Do you know that they were already interviewing designers,' she started, 'about what Surrey should wear on your wedding day.'

He didn't know who they were, but judging by the look on Poppy's face that was the least of his concerns.

'On TLC they celebrated your impending engagement by staging their own mock wedding. Peter Hunt revealed on BBC's _Royal Kiss Broadcast_ that apparently you and Surrey – whose name in case you were wondering is Isabel More-Molyneux – have known each other since you were children and there had always been a certain sort of tension there. _Cumbria_ spent all of last night and the night before in tears - _especially_ after that joint you all smoked- and was completely dependent on _your_ bodyguard to console her - so you don't have to worry about her snatching your crown, because she's already snatching at entirely different things -, which of course did not sit well with your little _sister_ and now my best mate is bunking with Liam.'

Good news about Jasper, then. The rest, _could've been better_. A mock wedding sounded interesting, though. Who would they have had playing him? He hoped Benedict Cumberbatch.

 _I love Benedict Cumberbatch._

The man was almost as deviously handsome as him.

'Many of the Kingdom's aristocrats have already extended their congratulations, most privately, though unfortunately some publicly. Your uncle Cyrus, the bloody oaf, gave a speech at the palace gates, claiming how happy he was you found love. Mr. Hill had to physically subdue him.'

Robert snorted; Poppy arched an eyebrow at him. 'You find this funny?'

He hastily shook his head. 'But even you have to admit, it's a bit much, isn't it?'

She pursed her lips at him and rolled her eyes.

'I mean, it was _just_ a kiss.' And it _had been just_ a kiss.

'Yeah. You're the King of England. Don't be a fool. You know it wasn't.'

 _Nobody likes you, demon._ Nobody. He glared at her for stating the obvious.

He sighed. 'I was _excited,_ okay. I _always_ get excited at the races. It wasn't my smartest move, but it meant _nothing_ to me and it _should_ mean nothing to the nation too.'

The ferociousness in her eyes softened. _Marginally._

'Everything you do will mean something to your people. You're their King. They love you and they want the best for you. Unfortunately for you this also means that they will want to control you. You've known this since you were young. What makes you think it would've changed now?'

 _I didn't think. That's the fucking problem._

She smiled then, a big, wide one and he was reminded of the garden party, when she had flashed him a similar one. Only then _she_ had fucked up and _he_ had been scolding her. 'You're such a baby.'

She nudged him with the toe of her pumps. He slapped her foot away.

'Behave.'

'And _you're_ telling _me_?' She laughed. 'Should've taken your own advice two days ago.'

His shoulders slumped. She hadn't told him anything yet. Was he engaged without being aware? Would he from now on be sharing his rooms with Surrey? _Where in the bloody hell was Surrey?_

'In case you were wondering, by the way. Surrey is back at her family's estate in, well, Surrey.' It was as if she could read minds. 'Your mother paid her a hefty sum and Rachel and I had her sign a non-disclosure agreement before she left. She took it all rather well, might I add, but of course she knows much better than I how these Royal machinations work, being born an aristocrat and all that.'

She was bloody scary sometimes and moments like these only cemented his belief she came crawling from the pits of hell to make his life miserable and _wait, what?_

'Hefty sum? _Non-disclosure agreement_?'

'Rachel, Willow and I fixed it.' Smug was an understatement. She pointed at the bags under her eyes. 'You see these? This is what it cost me to ward off your looming engagement. My beauty.'

He snorted. 'You weren't much to look at to begin with.'

The look on her face _clearly_ told him she disagreed. She rested her elbows on her left knee, propped herself up. Her blouse was low-cut and from where he sat on the floor he had a good view of her cleavage. _Especially_ from where he sat.

'Before you get all high and mighty, Rachel and I had a chat with Surrey and she agreed to all of it. Hence her signing the agreement.'

 _Threatened her to, more likely._

'You see,' Poppy continued. 'To remove the ridiculous notion of a Royal marriage from people's minds, we first had to remove the bride from the stage.'

'You killed her?' It came out before he could stop himself and even he had to laugh. Poppy had no right to, though, and he scowled at her.

'You're not allowed to laugh at my jokes, commoner.' She rolled her eyes at him.

'We couldn't discredit you, being the King and all,' she said. 'So we needed to discredit her.'

And this he was familiar with. The ancient art of unearthing scandalous facts about individuals and using it against them.

 _Gods, how I_ love _it._

But Surrey hadn't exactly done anything wrong - _I kissed_ her. She could've pushed him away, but what woman sane of mind would ever do that? He was a damned excellent kisser. She didn't deserve to be publicly shamed.

'I'm not completely comfortable with that,' he said.

'Save me the bollocks, Your Highness. Had she been Jasper you'd be happy to oblige.' She poked him in the chest. 'Better yet, I remember a certain reporter, journalist, _harpy_ , who you, with pleasure, provided dirt on Jasper. Dirt which you, by the way, paid a private detective to dig up. So don't tell me you're not comfortable with this.'

'Point taken.' Robert smirked and held up his hands in defeat. 'But in my defence, back then I still abhorred the lad. Surrey, however, I actually like.'

She smoothly moved closer. 'Hated Jasper as much as you abhor me?'

He curled his lip, looked at her disdainfully. His eyes lingered on her breasts. 'Absolutely not. I have a special sort of distaste for you.'

 _Dear old pestilential Calliope._

She smirked. 'Good. Also, it's already done, so whether you're comfortable or not, doesn't really matter. I told, she signed the non-disclosure agreement. By now everybody knows of sweet Isabel's promiscuous past. Her texts to her cousins, how she was so glad to see you again and perhaps steal a kiss and a crown from you. We might've hinted at a short-lived affair with Beck, too, and there's some pictures going around of her and your Uncle Cyrus.'

He frowned. 'Cyrus? _Really_? Was that truly necessary?'

Poppy sighed. 'Rachel thought it was and she made a bloody convincing argument as well. But it doesn't matter what was necessary or not, Robert. It all fits the angle we're rolling with. That this was just a heat of the moment kiss between two friends who've known each other since forever and have no romantic feelings for each other whatsoever. And perhaps she instigated it, perhaps she had ulterior motives. Maybe she wanted you, maybe she wanted the crown. Fact remains she dated wealthy guys before, had a thing with your best mate Beck - so there's bro code involved as well - _and_ her _friendship_ with Cyrus - because that's what _her_ people are rolling with - is at the least suspicious. Not the kind of girl the people of England want as your wife. Not the kind of woman the PM and all the other bobo's want as their Queen. Crisis averted.'

 _And a life ruined to essentially spare mine._

God bless the King, he thought wryly.

It had just been a _bleeding_ kiss.

'How much of this story was fabricated?' He questioned.

'Obviously you didn't know her before the Ascot,' she answered, 'but Peter Hunt provided us with a valid backstory, so we'd been stupid not to use it.

'And then there's that text and the pictures. I - well.' She looked down at her hands. 'I made everything up. But I _had_ to do it. Had I not, the media would have painted you as a rake. The skirt-chasing King who thinks to fool his people by claiming to search for a wife the Biblical way, while doing all that God has forbidden before marriage. It's a mess, I admit. Your people are labelling her an attention whore, a common slut, and the media suggest she's a gold-digger. All very nasty. But at least they're turning against her and _not_ against you.

'The people believe it. The media is buying it. Your _mother_ was _fuming_ and threatened with banishment from the Kingdom, so I try to consider it a job well done.'

He stared at her, disappointed, feeling guilty. _But not really._ Most of all he felt like he needed to tell her it was okay. That she had done well. That he was _grateful._

Necessary sacrifices.

He'd fucked up and other people paid the price for it. He'd given up enough of his own existence to demand such offers. He would apologize to Surrey, though. Perhaps pose together at the Royal Ascot later to show the public there was no grudge held between them. Hopefully the public was less prone to condemn her then.

Not often he felt the weight of his crown so heavily on his shoulders. It was fine if things concerned him. But this was just a girl, that he had bloody kissed, and for that she was dragged through the mud. To save his ass. To ensure _he_ didn't have to marry her.

'Can we go to your place tomorrow?' He hated how small his voice sounded. 'Drink your _disgusting_ whiskey and go dancing at some grubby bar where Jasper pays off the bouncer so no one will ever know we're there.'

It had been the last night he could've been _him._ Just Robert. Not the Prince of Wales and certainly not the King of England. Not even bloody royalty. Six days later he had been coronated.

She laughed, remembering their impromptu night out. 'Yeah. That was a good one.'

She leaned forward, cupped his cheek in her hand and brushed her thumb reassuringly over his cheekbones. 'You're always welcome in my home, Robert. _Always_. And whenever you want to go out, we'll go out. I _p_ _romise._ '

'No stripping, though.' He narrowed his eyes at her. 'You're already an eyesore, let alone without clothes.'

She kicked him with her heels and he fell back. His hand shot out and he grabbed her by the ankle, resisting the urge to pull her straight from his bed.

 _Fanatic Archfiend, I curse thee._

He controlled himself and pressed together his lips disapprovingly. 'Physically assaulting a King, according to the Treason Act of 1842, is still punishable by death.' He moved closer to her, baring his teeth in a smirk. 'I'd say, _try me_.'

She pushed herself off his bed, in the same movement pulled him up from the floor.

'Sod off.

'And Robert, if you ever again get lost in lustful emotions, you just kiss me, okay. Nobody'll expect you to marry your GCHQ liaison.'

He slung an arm around her shoulders, ruffled her hair with his other hand.

'Yeah, no,' he said seriously. 'I'd rather kiss Jasper.'

She feigned hurt and pinched his side. 'Someday, I'll make you regret those words.'

 _I doubt that._

He pushed her towards the doors, but she used the motion to turn around. She stopped him, placed her hands flat on his chest as she looked at him.

'I know this sucks right now, but I meant what I said, Robert. You're a good man and a good King. And at the end of this train wreck, everyone will be satisfied and you will still be as pathetically single as ever. I mean it, Robert. I take this _very_ serious.'

She cupped his cheek with her right hand and he almost forgot how to breathe. Rubbed her thumb over his slight stubble. He was dimly aware he must've looked like a gawking fish, looking at her open-mouthed. His throat was dry.

 _Why do you keep doing this to me,_ el Diablo.

He was cursed.

He stepped away from her and immediately it became easier to breathe. He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. Attempted a smirk and - _thank god -_ it worked.

'Time to go. I need to get dressed. The Coronation Stakes is today and I must look my finest. Apparently I'm back on the market.'

From the way her hands clenched into fists, he knew she wanted to strangle him.

 _Likewise, you high-heeled hoodlum. Likewise._


	6. ACT I - Part V - Benjaminites

_Originally part of the previous chapter. Quite possible you missed that one, since I at first uploaded them as one. Thank you for bearing with me, and thank you for reviewing. Be warned, madness up ahead :)_

* * *

 **ACT I**

 **Ahasuerus**

 **Part V.**

Benjaminites

They arrived at the Ascot a little after noon and it was _packed,_ as expected. The third day of the Royal Ascot normally attracted the biggest crowd, but with the happenings on Wednesday and the King's absence on the third day, the crowd had now flocked to the Ascot on Friday. The people were hopeful to catch a glimpse of the King and his entourage and the course was livelier and more vibrant than ever before. The masses coloured the track very nearly black. Designer dresses and millinery paragons made up the scenery. It was a day to see and _be seen_ , which was exactly what Robert had anticipated. Folk were staring the moment the Royal family exited their Rovers.

'I hate you,' Eleanor hissed in his ear. He had shared a Rover with her, a miscalculation on his part. Jasper was officially on duty today and Eleanor's mood was fouler than ever. James Hill suspected the horde might try to approach the King to hear what truly happened from _the_ source and even if that wasn't the case, he wanted to keep all and any reporters far away from the King. Today was meant to be a private event; the King and his guests in the Royal Box, nothing more, nothing less. Of course Robert was planning to stand against the parapet the entire day so all his subjects could catch a glimpse of his greatness.

 _And my amazing jawline._

They'd had two days of bloody anarchy. it was about time they showed the Kingdom exactly why they were Royal.

Robert smoothed his hair in the rear-view mirror and held out his hand for his sister to take. She drove her nails into his palm - _surely with evil intentions_ \- and he narrowly avoided the sharp heel of her stiletto.

'I love you too, Len. Thank you.'

He took a hold of her elbow firmly and together they strode towards the Grandstand, Jasper one length behind and Eleanor still grumbling. They looked like a _perfect, little_ family. Robert tuned his sister out. He wondered how much he would have to pay Jasper to take his sister overseas, never to return again.

 _Build a hut near the sea and put a baby in her belly. Keep her occupied so she'll stop bothering me._

But the slight worry he felt at the thought losing his best – and _worst_ – bodyguard was bigger than the torment Eleanor on a daily base put him through, so perhaps he'd keep them both around for a little while longer. At least until the coward popped the damn question. After that he could just disinherit Eleanor without a second thought. She'd be Jasper's problem then.

Guy Henderson, the Ascot's Chief Executive, awaited them at the box. The man had too much nose and not enough chin. Robert knew his type. Men who knew exactly which bumhole to scratch and who to suck up to. Henderson held a bottle of complimentary champagne in his hand and Eleanor, disentangling herself form her brother with a huff, took it from him and walked past without a word or glance.

 _My sister, the ill-bred mule._

'Forgive her, she didn't sleep well.' Henderson smiled at Robert's explanation. 'No offence taken, Your Majesty. It's always a pleasure to accommodate you and your family.'

Henderson spread his arms, welcoming the rest of the entourage.

'However, on behalf of the Ascot I must apologize, Your Majesty.' His face had taken on a pained expression and Robert applauded his control of his facial muscles. 'The reporters should not have been able to enter the Furlong Club on Wednesday. Be ensured that we are doing everything that is in our power to keep them at bay this afternoon. If there is anything, _anything,_ you desire, just let me know.'

Robert grinned, pleasantly surprised. 'There is no need for apologies. And I assure, my Head of Security has everything under control. Thank you for the kind offer, but for now we are satisfactorily suppl–'

Someone stamped on his foot, _hard._

'Keep walking, Robert,' the Queen Mother said sharply. She turned to Henderson. 'And you. The King meant to say he wanted a couple more bottles of that champagne. Off you go.'

 _Go for Gin. You named your horse well, mother._

He smirked as he left her at the doors and entered the Royal Box. _His box._

One of the first things Robert had done upon becoming King, was ordering the glass panels shielding the Royal Box removed. He claimed they took away from the action, the experience, and though his mother had been horrified - ' _I can smell the horses, Robert_ ' -, Liam, Eleanor and even Cyrus had agreed wholeheartedly. Watching the races behind glass was, to them, unheard of. Robert took his familiar spot against the parapet, looking out over the track. The views were amazing. Beneath him the Queen Anne enclosure was already packed to the brim, as was the Village. The first race was more than an hour away and he could see people simply enjoying the weather and each other's company. Some girls down in Queen Anne's enclosure were trying to get his attention. He waved at them, nodded in their general direction.

Kent joined him at the parapet and handed him a glass of champagne. She was one of the few counties left. When he thanked her, she blushed prettily and he took a moment to just take in her features. She was a beautiful woman. Reddish hair and light freckles, with dimples when she smiled. He had no horses racing today and therefore no excuse to kiss _anyone,_ but if he had, she surely was on top of his list.

 _Don't you dare, you philandering gigolo._

And when had he started hearing _her_ voice in his head?

 _You still need to apologize to Surrey. No kissing girls today._

He cursed and Kent backed away, before he could convince her otherwise.

'I get it,' she smiled. 'You need a moment alone. Understandably.'

She laid her hand on his arm and he almost - _almost -_ flinched. 'I'll be at the bar when you need me.'

And it became painfully clear in that moment, her eyes darting from him to the three girls beneath who were still looking, that traditional courtship was not reserved for him. Perhaps that was his curse. Set aside the fact he was posolutely _not_ looking for a wife – no matter what they had the _people_ believe -, the chance of him marrying for love was literally slim to none.

 _I kiss a bloody girl and they're planning our engagement._

 _I wave at some girls and they think I need a moment._

This entire country was bonkers.

Any sort of romantic engagement was out of the question, neither private nor public. Nothing was _ever_ private. Not in his life. He couldn't hide away the woman he was dating in his bedroom. He had tried that with Kathryn and had failed miserably. Truly, with her he hadn't wanted to go public, was satisfied just hanging out with her and keeping their _relationship_ hidden. But by the time he'd been ready to reveal her to the people, he'd already lost her.

 _To my brother, no less. The_ spare.

But, he realised. He wanted it. Someday. The clichéd wooing. Dating and stolen kisses in Hyde Park. Dancing far past midnight and drinking too much. Trips to the country and walking the Cornwall cliffs. He would have none of that. It simply wasn't possible. The nation would go mental. A date, to them, would mean possible engagement, marriage and children. There was nothing in between. And so they would vet her, like some piece of meat, and whichever unlucky girl he would end up with, she would never be good enough to the public.

 _Certainly not after this Surrey-thing._

They'd expect his date to follow proper Royal etiquette - and his cousin's wife, Catherine Elizabeth Middleton had set that bar _ridiculously_ high - and if by some mercy of the Gods the people decided she was prim and proper enough, they'd move on to scrutinizing her posture. With his luck with girls he'd probably end up with one _sitting the wrong way_ \- and again he blamed Kate, because _serious,_ the Duchess Slant?

 _Bloody hell._

He only _just_ realised.

He'd have to _settle._

 _Yuck._

'What are you thinking about? Grabbing one of your fangirls and carrying her off to be your wife?' He rolled his eyes when Poppy came to stand next to him and followed his gaze. Stuck out her tongue at the three girls looking up at the Royal Box.

Robert snorted. 'That's from Benjaminites, right?'

Poppy nodded and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. The scene reminded him too much of just two days before, at the very same spot. He thought of her hand, how it had been much warmer than Surrey's.

He wondered if Poppy could execute the Duchess Slant convincingly.

He acted on instinct, capturing her hand in both of his. His right hand rested on the back of her hand, while he laced the fingers of his left through hers. Her hand was just as warm as in his memory. Funny how they fit.

'What are you doing?' She cocked her head at him, searching his face.

He cringed. 'Just checking. They say a sixth finger is a sign of evil. Handiwork of the devil.'

She gently disentangled her hand from his. 'Disappointed I only have five on each hand?'

 _You have no idea._

'On your right hand, yes, but what about your left?'

 _Cheeky Robbie. Well played._

He hadn't expected her to hold up her hand for him and he hesitated. His eyebrow rose of its own accord, clearly as _appalled_ at her audacity as he was. She wiggled her fingers in front of his face and tapped her index finger against his nose.

'One,' she said.

He froze. Intrigued.

She did the same with her middle finger.

'Two.'

Her ring finger.

'Three.'

He didn't realise he was holding his breath, his lips slightly parted. Something had shifted, a change in the air. He felt it coil in his stomach. Or maybe it was just her.

 _The hellion and her presence._

Her eyes were bright.

 _Huge._

Looking only at him.

 _Beautiful._

She brushed her thumb delicately over his bottom lip and her tongue flicked out to wet her own.

 _Goddamnit._

'Five.' The word was nothing more but a whisper, but he felt it like a tremor through his entire body.

 _She got me bloody well undone._

She looked up at him, innocently, and she was incomprehensible, indecipherable and for some reason he thought ungraspable. He tore his gaze away from her, chuckled tensely.

'You forgot four.'

And if his voice was hoarse, he chose to ignore it. He flicked her against the forehead, inconspicuously stepping away from her as he did so. He had to create some distance between them. _Needed to._

 _Demon,_ he reminded himself. _Siren casting a spell on me._

'Now be a good liaison.' He had to force the words out. 'And get your King a drink.'

Her eyes widened, fractionally, her mouth frozen in a silent _o_. Then she smiled, a cheerless imitation of her usual ones. 'Sure. Scotch?'

She turned on her heels and he couldn't stop his eyes from following her. Lingering on the swagger of her hips, before he even realized what he was looking at. Jasper was watching him and their gazes crossed. The glint in his bodyguard's eyes was _supremely_ perceptive.

 _Should've banished them when I had the chance. Her and that thug Jasper._

His fingers curled around the parapet tightly. Clenched hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. He rested his head briefly on his forearms and slowly exhaled.

 _Bloody GCHQ liaison._

More trouble than she was worth.


	7. ACT I - Part VI - Genesis 27:27

_I edited chapter 5 a bit. Helena had nothing to do with the "framing" of Surrey. Wasn't impressed by episode 8, though. Hopefully next week'll be better. Fangirling Spencer and Sebastian massively._

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing. Always inspiring. Looking forward to the next chapter :)_

* * *

 **ACT I**

 **Ahasuerus**

 **Part VI.**

Genesis 27:27

It had been an intense week and Robert was happy when the finale of the Royal Ascot eventually arrived. He was sick to death of talking to reporters, smiling for the cameras and winking mysteriously whenever they asked him whether he had already _snatched a wife._ All he needed to do was make it through the last day and then he could return to his platitudinous life.

Foreign politics, domestic affairs, smoke-filled rooms and the PM. _Such fun._

The last day turned out to be an enjoyable one, when Ashok decided to act upon long-lingering feelings and kissed Gemma after a win – and Gemma hadn't slapped him for it, much to Robert's surprise. A visit to the Ascot Stables ended in Jasper getting kicked by a horse - _not_ one of Robert's unfortunately - despite him standing to the side, because he was _not_ afraid of horses and Eleanor got into a shouting match with Cumbria over her _not_ boyfriend's marital status. Robert, watching the argument thoroughly entertained, had been inclined to let it escalate – he knew his sister had a mean right hook, no matter how skinny she was – but James and Baker had interfered, separating the two hotheads and escorting Cumbria off the premises.

Robert had told them to get rid of his sister as well, but for some reason they had disobeyed his orders. He'd have to discipline them later, when back at the Palace.

What remained of his stay at the Ascot had been quite _lovely._ He'd spent it with Kent by his side and they had spoken some more about horses and the country and _everything._ She was nice, intelligent, _beautiful_ , and he had wanted to kiss her – once, twice, four, five, at least ten times – but there had constantly been too many eyes and he hadn't been too sure she would appreciate his forwardness.

 _Not after the Surrey-debacle._

And perhaps Poppy's voice in his head, incessantly blabbering on about his roguish ways, - _scalawag, miscreant_ and _inveigler -,_ had something to do with it as well. So he had restrained himself, had been a perfect gentleman. If he surreptitiously compared the feel of her hand to Poppy's, he chose not to acknowledge it, and if Kent came out lacking, he pretended not to care.

 _Yes_ , Robert was glad it was all over and done with. There was no ring on his finger nor a fiancee on his arm. _Mission accomplished._ And now he and Poppy could go back to coexisting, living their own lives and not minding the other. _Tolerating_ Poppy - barely - as he had done for the past two, three years. But he already knew that was not going to happen, because she had always been shoving her _pretty, fiendish_ face up into his business, no matter how many times he had told her to _fuck off_ and had yelled at Jasper to keep his dog on a leash.

He smirked when he remembered the most memorable part of the day, when Poppy had taken a tumble down the stairs, causing her to walk around the Ascot for the remainder of the day with a scowl that almost rivalled Jasper's and a bump the size of Australia and New Zealand combined on her forehead.

 _And I may have pushed her down the steps entirely truly completely by accident –_ doubtlessly.

He didn't even feel slightly guilty.

 _She deserved it._

He still hadn't gotten rid of the feel of her hand in his, and he had checked _\- inspected, scrutinized -_ his hand because at some point during the night he had been convinced she had burned her fingerprints into the palm of his hand, because he could still _feel_ it. It only proved to him that she was as much a malignant spirit as he suspected her to be and perhaps an _exorcism_ was in order.

'Still as godawfully single as a few months ago now, aren't you?' Eleanor, during dinner that night, grinned at him _insolently_ and he felt like _accidentally_ pushing _her_ down the stairs. Her mood had been repulsively _happy_ ever since they had returned from the Ascot. He reckoned it was a mix of Cumbria _fucking off_ and Jasper being off duty again. They had disappeared into their bedroom for at least two hours, before joining the rest of the _family_ in the grand hall. For once Helena had made an exception and allowed them to eat dinner in front of the telly. Spencer had joined them and if anyone noticed the tension between the Chamberlain and the Queen Mother, they did a good job of hiding it.

Robert prayed to all that was merciful and good that it was _not_ sexual tension. There was already a conflict of interest going on with his bodyguard shagging his sister. He sincerely hoped his mother wasn't cock snuggling the Chamberlain, because that'd be a transgression he could _not_ overlook. And he liked Spencer. Really liked the man. He'd be staying then. Perhaps it was about time his mother moved out. The Palace was _his_ home after all, not _hers._

His Royal residence in London, Clarence House, was currently unoccupied, and if Helena _really_ wanted a palace, he could always kick Kate and her bloody Duchess Slant out of Kensington Palace, relocate her and her family to Saint James's, so his mother could move into Kensington. Harry could stay, though. Robert had always liked the redhead.

'I'd rather be single than stuck with a commoner,' Robert replied as he sipped thoughtfully from his glass of champagne. 'Siring little bastards isn't in my future plans, dear sister.'

She growled at him, but Jasper had a tiny grin on his face and Robert winked at him, held up his ring finger at an angle Eleanor couldn't see. Jasper gave him the finger. 'Neither is it in my mine.'

Robert rolled his eyes as Eleanor ignored his bodyguard's comment.

 _Bloody halfwit._

A serious talk with Jasper was overdue. It was about time that ring in the man's pocket found its way to Eleanor's finger. They needed to strategize this. Knowing Eleanor, she wouldn't _just_ say yes. She'd make the man work for it. And knowing Jasper and his _American stubbornness_ there was about as much chance of _that_ ending up in a marriage, as it was in a break-up. There had been a time when Robert had been opposed to everything Jasper, but right now he wanted nothing more than for Jasper to pop the question and just whisk his sister away to whatever castle or palace she wanted to live in. As long as it wasn't _his_. They could take Poppy with them.

He looked at the _anathematized Mephistopheles_ sitting next to him. He doubted he deserved this. _This normalcy._ Lazing about with family. _Friends. And_ _her._

 _His succubus._

He stretched, inconspicuously and aggrandized at the same time, and spread his arm over the back of the sofa. The few stray hairs resting in Poppy's neck tickled his bare forearm and he found himself wishing she'd just unpin it. Let her dark curls tumble down. He brushed his thumb over her nape and she shivered. It was barely noticeable, but he saw. Smirked.

 _And perhaps I'm your incubus._

She leaned closer to him, barely, and he let his arm rest gently on her shoulders.

He didn't care much. Not now. He wasn't King. Not this moment. Not looking for a wife. Just Robert.

 _And her fingers are still burning in my hand._

When she laughed at something Ivan said and threw her head back, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her near. She obliged – _as if she had a choice –_ and moved towards him, never looking, simply drawing near and settling against his side.

It was so easy and natural and _bloody relaxing,_ the feel of her form against his. He started rubbing circles on her shoulder and he wondered if she could feel his heart racing.

Perhaps hers was too.

She inclined her head towards him, whispered. 'You smell like a farm, Robert.'

 _If she even had a heart, that inhuman philistine._

'You're the pig, not me,' he replied under his breath. She grinned, brushing her nose against his sleeve. 'Your stench tells me otherwise.'

And she was right, because after their visit to the stables at the Ascot they all had the distinct scent of horse and hay and something he'd rather not define clinging to them, but they were all in too good a mood to care much. He flicked her against the ear with his free hand, lingering near her jaw when she turned to face him fully.

'You okay?'

He nodded.

She clicked her tongue against her teeth and shook her head. 'I'm serious, Robert. Are you okay?'

And she was referring to his speech at the end of the Royal Ascot. Thanking everyone for being there. Thanking the public for having faith in him. _Expressing regret over Surrey –_ and he had yet to apologize to the poor girl. And telling his country, his _people_ , that despite his and _their_ best efforts, even though he had spent the previous days with incredibly admirable young Ladies, a spark had not been ignited and no Royal Engagement had sprung forth. _Regrettably._ But he would remain _vigilant._

 _Remain vigilant in my efforts of finding a wife the Biblical way._ He had almost choked on the words. But the country ate them up and at least they would stay off his back for a while now. That was all he wanted.

'I'm good,' he reassured her. He sighed and tightened his hold on her. 'And _you_ truly are a demon of your word. I made it through this thing without being forced to marry anyone. _We_ made it through. So thank you.'

She eyed him, pleasantly surprised, and she rubbed her cheek against his arm.

'You're welcome.'

His eyes narrowed at her, though, when he remembered and he growled. 'I take that back. You were the one who got me into this mess in the first place. Hell'll freeze over before I thank you.'

She chuckled, a throaty sound that had him pull her closer yet again. She steadied herself with a hand on his thigh and he told himself he only stopped breathing because of something, nothing, _anything._ It certainly wasn't because her hand was so achingly close to _his_ …

'So, don't mind me asking, but since when are you two friends?' Gemma was eyeing the two of them from where she sat on the floor, wrapped in a fleece blanket and Ashok.

 _And that one was still so weird to Robert, because really,_ Gemma _and_ Ashok?

He objected, though. _We're definitely_ not _friends. I'll be damned._

Poppy laughed. 'I feel sorry for him.' She shrugged. 'He's a Henstridge, so of course he's easy on the eyes, but he has such a detestable attitude that I fear he'll never find a wife.'

 _Stinking traitor._

He retracted his arm and she chuckled, latching onto him. Pulling his arm back over her shoulder, snuggling up against him.

'I don't need your pity,' he grunted, but he settled back into the sofa, accustomed his body to hers pressing against him.

'Group hug,' Liam cheered. And suddenly they were all on him – except Jasper, because _Jasper was too bleeding cool for group hugs_ – and in the throng of bodies he lost hers and – _fuck._

By the time Ashok had gotten off of his lap and Beck was done apologizing to Eleanor for accidentally touching a boob – the _accidental_ part being under serious scrutiny here – Poppy had moved to the other sofa and was now cuddling up to the Avery brothers – _who had invited them?_ – and stealing bits of chicken from Jasper's plate – _who wasn't doing anything to save her from those lecherous juveniles._

The doors to the room banged open before he had the change to say something about it.

'Ah, Robert, Poppy.' His mother stood in the doorway. 'I'd like to speak to you in my office. _Now._ '

Eleanor smirked and Liam mimicked slitting his own throat.

'You're in _trouble_ ,' he mouthed. Willow cuffed him against the ear. 'Good luck,' she murmured, as Robert made to get up. He smiled at her, not too worried. He glared at Holden and Ivan Avery when he passed them, just for good measure, and pulled up Poppy in his stride. She rolled her eyes at his back. He couldn't see her, but he was certain she was. He'd be disappointed if she hadn't.

His mother was waiting for them in her study.

'Sit down.' She was leaning against her desk, gesturing to the two seats standing in front of it. They sat down compliantly.

Helena sighed. 'I thought the purpose of this year's Royal Ascot was to find you a wife, Robert.'

He nodded. 'Unfortunately, we failed.'

'Yes.' His mother scowled at the both of them. 'And I am _extremely_ disappointed in you both.'

With her hands on her hips and her right foot tapping a steady rhythm on the hardwood floors, his mother made an intimidating sight. At least, to him.

Poppy wasn't impressed. 'Disappointed in _me_? What did _I_ do?' She threw up her hands, got up in a huff, and Robert had to commend her incredible acting skills.

'I provided the ignoramus' – _what in the bloody hell did she just call him?_ – 'with forty-eight gorgeous candidates and _he_ was the one who failed to wife them. Not _me_.'

Robert smirked and when Poppy had her back to Helena, she stuck out her tongue at him and winked. The bump on her forehead made her look like a complete idiot. He smiled even wider.

'He had a good connection with Kent,' Poppy continued, 'but I think she was a bit too proper for his tastes. They did agree to meet up this Summer. She wanted to show him her county on horseback, so I wouldn't write her off completely. It's a shame his questionable looks couldn't win her over completely, but at the least there's a friendship there, so who knows what might happen.'

'Questionable looks?' Robert arched an eyebrow at her and she grinned, blew him a kiss, but flipped him off at the same time, all with her back to his mother.

 _Incorrigible devil child._

'Lovely,' Helena said dryly, 'but I'd like to hear more from my son's mouth. What do _you_ have to say for yourself, _Robert_?'

He shrugged. 'They were all lovely, but it simply didn't work out. I think I need some time to figure out what it is I find important in a Queen and a wife. Adjust our strategy. Give it some time and we'll continue our search.'

 _Give it a lot of time._

His mother stared him down, her eyes narrowed. When he didn't respond, she fixed her efforts on Poppy, who came to stand next to him. She rested a hand on the armrest and he leaned towards her, his shoulder bumping into her arm as he placed his elbow next to her hand. Her fingers twitched, curled into the inside of his elbow, and he placed his other hand in front of his arm so his mother wouldn't see.

He wondered how they had gotten so accustomed to hiding their occasional, sporadic, _not habitual_ touches from prying eyes, but perhaps it wasn't so weird since it was almost common, frequent, _constantly_ that parts of their bodies were touching.

 _Not always hidden._

'I liked Surrey.' He felt Poppy tense as his mother spoke. 'What happened there?'

And the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when Poppy answered. 'A shame she was only after his crown.'

His mother laughed, a sharp and entirely humourless sound. It was the laugh she had reserved almost exclusively for Eleanor and her imbecilic antics and _fuck._

'Oh, dear Calliope,' Helena smiled, all teeth and no joy. 'Rachel is loyal to _me_. You think I don't know you fabricated those texts and pictures out of thin air? I am the _Queen Mother._ I know _everything_ that happens in this Palace. _Everything._ '

She rounded on Robert, but continued to address Poppy. 'Fact of the matter is that my son does not want to marry. And, unfortunately for you both, you made the mistake of underestimating me. Or perhaps overestimating yourself.

'Frankly, I do not care about what Robert wants. The people _want_ a Royal Marriage and the Kingdom _needs_ an heir. Robert shall _provide_ both.'

She sat down on her bureau, crossing her legs graciously. She looked Poppy in the eye, dismissing Robert completely.

'By the end of _this_ year some unlucky noble born brat will have a ring on her finger and you, Calliope, are going to make it happen. I swear to God and to both you and the King. By the _end_ of _this_ year. Or I'll make sure he'll never wear that crown again and put some other simpleton on the throne.

'Now off you go.'

She was out of her mind, his mother, _batshit crazy._ But he also knew she'd do it. _Dethrone him._ Find a way to depose him. He wondered if she'd get away with it. Decided he didn't want to find out.

What was worse: assassinating his mother or killing his brother for a wife?

He made a mental note to ask Poppy.

 **END OF ACT I.**


	8. ACT II - Part I - Psalm 119:30

_So, in the original chapter 9 I said I felt like something was missing. I think that perhaps this was it. Hope you like it. Absolutely loved the season finale by the way. Such a perfect villain. I want to marry him._

 _As always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

 **ACT II**

 **Lawlessness**

 **Part I.**

Psalm 119:30

She had a list. The Queen _Mother_ had a list, stating all the qualities the future Queen should possess. In bold, cursive script she had written _noble born,_ Duchess Slant, a _master's_ degree – _not_ in Art – and so on and so on. Robert still couldn't believe it.

The three empty beer bottles and the fourth in his hand hadn't made the _non-believing_ any better. Not worse either, though.

 _But honestly, truly, Mother. Have you finally gone completely mad?_

What _drugs_ had she used? What made her _think_ she could tell _him_ \- _His Majesty_ Robert the First, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and of His other Realms and Territories King, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith – what to do? Who to marry? How _dare_ she order him around?

He groaned and Poppy chuckled, so he growled some more.

'I hate you,' he muttered. 'You know that, right?'

'Sure.'

'And this is all your fault.'

'Sure.' The amusement in her voice mocked him. He growled again; she smiled and shook her head. 'Stop that growling, Robert. You're not an animal.'

'Then stop acting like this is funny.'

But probably to her it was, _banjaxed_ hellion. He shouldn't be surprised she was feeding off his misery. She was an _Impundulu_ and someone should just shoot her now. Or him. Perhaps Cyrus would be willing? Most likely. The man would jump at the opportunity to get rid of the rightful King. Would then crown himself or the _spare_. And the Gods knew both Cyrus and Liam were terribly unfit for any sort of throne. _Fatally lacking several Kingly traits._ They were too ugly anyway.

'Have you even read the rest of it, Robert?' Her voice pulled him back to the present and he narrowed his eyes at her. Of course he hadn't. He hadn't continued after the master's degree – not in Art – because that entire list was farcical and he wasn't about to waste any time on reading it. He had _people_ to do so.

Poppy rolled her eyes at him.

'You should read it,' she said. 'It's hilarious. There's a rule that your future wife cannot have any male friends. And she should be humble in her achievements, but at the same time your mother wants her to have achieved basically _everything._

'Oh. She's also not allowed to eat _anything_ but salad. So I'm guessing I won't make the final cut.'

He wasn't smiling and he could tell she had no idea how to make him. He appreciated her efforts, though.

 _I appreciate you_.

And immediately he drowned the offending thought in a mouthful of beer.

She slid the insulting piece of paper towards him, but he stuck up his nose.

'No.'

She smiled at him, assuasive, and he shook his head.

'This list might be funny, but the Queen Mother _demanding_ my engagement in less than five months is no fucking joke. I don't know if you noticed, but she was bloody serious. Threatened to dethrone me. And she's _mental,_ completely disordered, so I _know_ she will do it. This is the woman who declared her own _children_ illegitimate _just_ so they would not have the throne. She is out of her damn mind.'

And suddenly assassination didn't even sound that _bad._ Or illegal. Because worst of all was that he _knew_. Deep down he knew his mother was right. The Gods curse her.

Poppy reached for him, for his hand, and gently brushed her fingers over his.

'It's going to be okay, Robert,' she said kindly. 'We got away with parading forty girls around under the pretence that it was the Biblical way and the Kingdom loved it. So we'll figure something out for this as well. I'm Poppy. I always figure your shit out.'

He wasn't impressed and it burned. He snatched his hand back, away from the fire that the touch of her skin ignited.

She frowned, but said nothing. Her hand was left resting awkwardly on the table. She looked at him pointedly and he stubbornly stared at the wall.

'Fine.' She dragged her hand and the paper back. 'Be like this.'

'Fuck you.' As unexpected as the words were, even to him, he enunciated them clearly, spoke slowly and with clarity. 'Fuck you, Poppy.

'You don't figure shit out. You get me into shit. You're a thorn in my side. If you'd just kept your mouth shut at the garden party, none of this would've ever happened.'

She scoffed. 'If you really believe that, you're an idiot. Your mother wants you to get married. _Needs you to get married and make babies._ My big mouth and I were mere tools she used to put the wheels in motion. I'm the scapegoat. You get that, right? This ultimatum she has given you would still be here regardless of me. She would've found another way. You need to get married before the end of the year. That's what the Queen Mother wants, that what the Queen Mother expects she'll get. So don't sit here and tell me to go fuck myself, because _this_ is not my fault. I did not do this. So don't blame me and instead of sulking help me find a solution.'

There was fire in her eyes but he could only shake his head.

'There is _no_ solution, Poppy. I had my Kingdom, my life and my _woman_ taken away from me. And in all honesty, out of those three, it is the Kingdom I value the most.'

He took another swig of beer – yet another testament of Poppy's influence, because when had he foregone whiskey in favour of illiberal and uncultured _beer_?

'I will not lose my Kingdom again, therefore I have no choice but to abide by my mother's wishes. And she is _right_.

'I'm trying to fill a void left by a great King before me and everything I do should be in service to my people. It is time I set aside my pride. No matter what my father thought, my hubris shall _not_ be my downfall. I will _rise_.

'I might hate it and might not be ready for it, but my mother's wishes are those of the people as well. There _is_ no solution, Poppy. There is only easing my suffering.'

'You sound like a Shakespearean tragedy,' she smirked and he groaned.

 _If only you knew._

And maybe she should.

 _Know._

Even though not even he himself _really_ knew.

'You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?' He sighed, threw his head back. _Anguish._ 'Absolutely fucking crazy. And the weird thing is… I kind of like it.'

'I can't stop fucking thinking about you.' He chuckled, mirthlessly. 'It's ridiculous. I wake up and you're bloody _there_. I go to sleep, you're there. I hear your voice in my head, telling me what to do, what to say, _how to feel._ And it doesn't matter one single _fuck._ '

He sighed. 'It doesn't matter.'

He looked at her, _steel._ She stared back, _grit._ And maybe she was stronger than he was, because he looked away first.

'I think about you.' She had gotten up from her chair, was walking around the table. She smiled. 'I don't hear your voice in my head, because that's just crazy, but I think about you too. _All the time_. So I think it does matter.'

She neared him, reached out as much he leaned towards and when her hand touched his cheek, they both felt _it._

He leaned into her hand, closed his eyes. _That fire_. Her warmth seeped into his cold skin and there was nothing that made him feel more protected than her touch. He placed his hand over the back of hers, applied more pressure, and perhaps he _wanted_ her fingerprints to burn themselves into his cheek. Because who else would want him then? With such an obvious mark of another _scarring_ him.

'It doesn't matter, though,' he murmured. 'This Kingdom needs a Queen. And I need a wife. So it doesn't matter.'

She was quiet for a while. Her hand still cupping his face. Still hot on his cheek.

'It doesn't.' She agreed.

Her other hand ran through his hair and he felt her step closer, felt a stray curl touch his face. And then her body was there and he, without hesitation, let her draw him into her arms. Let her wrap herself around him. And suddenly her comfort surrounded him.

The shiver that ran down his spine told him it was more than _just_ comfort, but he wasn't ready to admit that much. Wasn't ready, didn't want to, _couldn't._

 _I'm so screwed._

His hands ran up her legs. Slipped around her hips and pulled her closer. _Impossibly closer_ until there was him and there was her and where one ended and the other began he didn't know.

He breathed out and relaxed against her.

 _I could stay like this forever._

And he could learn to forget.

 _Forget that you crawled out of the depths of Hell to make my life miserable._

He could pretend she was born somewhere rural, in a grand castle near the coast, the youngest of six little Lords and Ladies, her parents descendants from some minor house of aristocrats, but noble born nevertheless. Because when she held him like _that._

 _Anchored, at peace,_ satisfied.

His voice was low, barely discernible, but with his head resting on her chest, her hand massaging his scalp and the other still _burning –_ burning – into his cheek, his being, his _everything_ , he knew she heard him. He breathed in the scent of her, deeply, and there were too many thoughts and feelings, too many to discern, but he didn't _want_ to figure it out and he didn't _have_ to. Not now.

His voice was low, but he knew she heard him.

' _Never let me go._ '


	9. ACT II - Part II - Sin

_I added a chapter and edited this one. I'll be off to edit the last added chapter so it'll fit the changes I made. Hopefully I'll be able to upload it in a couple of hours. Sorry for the inconvenience, guys!_

* * *

 **ACT II**

 **Lawlessness**

 **Part II.**

Sin.

She had taken the next week off and he had missed her _dearly_ and _c_ _learly_ Jasper had known. Because after the third day of him _pouting_ the man had threatened him with a gun, thrown him in the trunk of a black Range Rover and had driven them to Poppy's house. Except Jasper had announced at lunch that day he'd be using his free day to visit a friend and Robert had promptly invited himself. So luckily, he hadn't known.

'I need a distraction from this palace,' Robert had said.

'And Poppy's the only person you know who can put up with your sorry ass?' Jasper had questioned.

Robert had refused to be offended by Jasper's words and had simply climbed into the Rover.

'Drive, peasant. Drive.'

She had greeted Jasper with a, 'What's he doing here?', instantly reminding Robert of the fact that _oh yeah, almost forgot,_ she really was an unrefined hellhound clearly lacking _any_ manners. And if her voice had whispered in his head, _just the way you like it_ , he had ignored it because, _yeah_ , as she had said, _that's just crazy._

It was clearly her day off; she was dressed in a nondescript long shirt and when she had bent over to grab a newspaper in front of her door, he had caught a glimpse of fiery red knickers. _Interesting._ She had been watching football, Liverpool against Chelsea – the red made him wonder whether she was supporting the wrong team -, but Jasper had handed him a glass of whiskey so here he was, calm and carefree, one hundred percent _King_ and _nobody_ owned him. Especially not his mother.

He cheered.

Poppy looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. That smile he had come to _lov_ –

'What are you doing?' she asked with a grin. 'Nobody scored, you loony.'

He shrugged, smirked at her. 'Just happy.'

She pushed herself up from the floor, came to sit next to him on the armrest. He found it funny how she juggled two bottles of beers, was perplexed she see she was actually drinking from both of them at the same time.

 _Bacchanalian ogre, then._

She looked down at him, waving on of her bottles in his face. 'You want to go out later? You know, just like the other night?' _Almost three years ago._ He wondered if it was just the memory of that night he was attached to, or the fact that she was in it.

She played with the cuffs of his dress shirt. Her fingers brushing bare skin. Jasper pretended not to see, focused on the telly.

'I have an Adidas vest you can wear,' she grinned. 'The same one actually.'

He smiled up at her, stilled her hand. He placed his glass on the glass table in front of him, next to where she had put both her empty beer bottles and curled his fingers through hers. Squeezed softly and she did the same.

'Nah,' he said. 'I'd rather stay here. Watch football.'

He smirked. 'And I'm way too buff now to fit in your tiny vest.'

She laughed and when she made to get up, he held onto her hand a little bit tighter. She sat back down, her knees touching, and perched herself daintily on the arm.

 _Duchess Slant._

Perhaps she wasn't noble born, but at least she met one of the requirements on his mother's list.

And on impulse he rested his head on top of her thigh, only for a moment, only until Jasper turned around and coughed pointedly. They scowled at each other, Poppy blissfully unaware – but she was good at feigning ignorance and he was never too sure with her. He sighed, lifted his head slowly off her lap.

And just because _he_ was Robert the King and _she_ was a cursed shaitan, he pushed her off the couch. She hit the floor with a satisfactorily _thud_ and Jasper snorted loudly, approvingly.

'In my own house,' she muttered dejectedly as she crawled back to her original spot in front of the telly, opened another bottle of beer to drown her sorrows.

Chelsea held a comfortable lead and the game was already played, so Robert entertained himself by watching her.

 _As if he hadn't seen enough of her during the Royal Ascot._

But he _hadn't._ Even though he despised her and would love nothing more than to kick her back into the depths of Hell, he _liked_ spending time with her. Liked getting on her nerves, liked _her_ getting on _his._

 _Loved her hand in mine._

And he really needed to get _that_ out of his head, because if her hand already felt _this_ good, then how would the rest of her feel? _All of her?_ And that thought was _insanely disgusting_ because Calliope was the _bane of his existence_ and as _common_ as Jasper and not nearly fit for a _man_ like him.

Yet all he wanted to know was if she could _please_ a _man like him_.

He eyed his almost empty glass of whiskey and set it down again. Pushed it further away with his big toe.

 _Poison. Dangerous and traitorous poison._

He took a swig straight from the bottle.

The sound of Jasper's phone vibrating distracted him, but only temporarily.

'We have to go.' Jasper got up almost immediately after reading the text message he had received,

'Why?'

'I need to run an errand.'

'Then why do I need to go?'

Jasper looked at Poppy, hands spread but she shrugged. 'How long is this errand going to take?'

'An hour, maybe two.' He sighed. 'Could be longer.'

'Is it urgent?' Jasper glanced over at Robert and nodded. 'Does he have to come?' Jasper shook his head.

'Well, in that case, he can stay.' And Robert hated how they were talking about him like he wasn't in the same room. He stayed quiet, though, even held his breath. The prospect of staying with Poppy alone had him slightly excited. He didn't dare ponder why, simply focused on their conversation.

'He's a handful, especially when he drinks,' Jasper said.

'You think I don't know that.' Poppy snorted. 'I'm his GCHQ liaison, remember.'

'I'll be as quick as possible.'

'Take your time.'

'Are you sure?'

'One hundred percent.'

She laughed, weaving their fingers together as she rested a head against his arm. Their familiarity annoyed Robert.

He frowned.

'Don't worry, Jasper.' She pushed him towards the door, but Jasper held his ground. 'I'll whip up something to eat and we'll be fine until you're back. He needs to be punished for pushing me off my sofa, anyway.'

Robert could pinpoint the exact moment Jasper gave in, and he smirked. Until Jasper turned around with a scowl on his face, walked towards him.

'Don't do anything stupid.' The man's grip on his shoulder was tight, almost painful. 'She's my friend and she's _not_ part of your people.'

 _Noted._

Jasper hugged Poppy quickly and then he was gone. A silence fell as the door closed behind him. Poppy had her arms crossed over her chest, was looking at him through narrowed eyes. He looked right back, an eyebrow arched. She huffed and walked into the kitchen. He could hear her rummaging around with pans and the cooking hood whirred to life. She was actually going to cook him dinner. He smiled.

'So, Poppy,' he said eventually. 'I assume "whip up something to eat" means poisoning me?'

He was surprised when dinner was actually more than decent. In all honesty, he thought she'd be a shit cook. Spaghetti wasn't the hardest of dishes to prepare, but he still had to give credit where credit was due. It tasted good. And he prayed to God she hadn't sprinkled rat poison through his, with the way she had been staring daggers at him over her plate.

When she had come to collect his plate, he, for a moment, had feared she would stab him with his own knife, but she had retreated to the kitchen without harming him and upon her return had handed him an ice-cold beer. Her fingers had lingered, as had his, and when their eyes had met, his throat had tightened.

 _Surely_ she had forgiven him for throwing her off the sofa.

'I am always welcome here, right,' he questioned and she nodded, remembrance dawning on her face. He hadn't forgotten that conversation either, when he had asked to go to her house. Because he had wanted to escape. _The madness._ Running away, like a _weak_ man. He wasn't that person. He liked to think he was a _better_ man.

Yet here he was.

'Come here.' He breathed out slowly, patting the empty spot next to him.

She hesitated; he pretended not to care. She sat down next to him, her back against the armrest. The distance between them was enormous and she looked at him, almost challengingly. He held out his hand.

'Come closer.' This time she didn't wait, but immediately moved, her shoulder touching his, her hand next to his thigh.

'Close enough?'

'Not nearly,' he said and she draped both her legs over his right thigh, rested her head against his chest. He ran a hand through her hair and eventually let it fall to her hip. She scooted closer. A comfortable silence settled between them.

'I haven't spoken to my mother since last week.' Of course he was the first to break it. She heard him and brought the bottle of Heineken to her lips. Took a sip.

'Neither did I.'

He snorted and he saw her smile from the corner of his eyes.

'I don't want to marry.'

She nodded, took another sip.

'I know.'

He sighed. So did she. She lifted her head from his chest, rested it against the back of the sofa instead.

'I read the list.'

Poppy cocked her head to the side to look at him. Robert frowned.

'I think she finally accepted that the twins are going to end up with commoners and little bastards, so she's going to make damn sure at least one of her children doesn't marry beneath his station. I'm King, though. So if marrying down is not an option, then there's actually nobody left.'

She poked him in the chest, grinned at him.

'You're so cocky. You should've just snatched up Kate Middleton when you had the chance. Now you're just doomed to stay alone forever. _'_

'Or settle.' He looked at her. 'Settle for an unhappy life with a woman I care nothing for.'

'Yeah.' She nodded. 'Settle.'

'I still haven't completely dismissed killing Liam and marrying Willow.' But Poppy shook her head. 'Base born. Just as plebeian as Jasper and I. So that is not going to work.'

He smirked. 'Nobody is as base born as you and Jasper.'

'And nobody likes you.'

'You do.'

She chuckled. 'I have to. You pay my salary.'

'Not really,' he said. 'My mother does, remember.'

'Truth.' She slapped him playfully. 'In that case, _fuck off, I don't like ya.'_

He clamped his hand over her mouth. 'Shut up.' The sound was muffled, but her shoulders shook with laughter.

'What if I want to marry commonalty?' Her chuckling immediately stopped, but he didn't remove his hand. 'What if I met someone that I like and she's _third estate_ , just like Willow. And Jasper. _And you?'_

Her eyes widened. She licked her lips as she looked at him. Almost _expectantly._

He smirked.

'Well, not you. You're more fifth, sixth, seventh estate. _Proletarian.'_

She scoffed and showed him her middle finger, flicked him against the nose.

He bit it.

 _I bit it._

She cried out and jumped back. Instinctually he followed her, hunted her as she scrambled back over the sofa, until she was trapped between the arm and Robert. She grinned.

'Seems like you got the little base born pleb,' she smiled.

'Not really, though,' he replied and he crawled closer. Rested his hands on either side of her hips.

'Jasper said, don't do anything stupid,' she said innocently.

'Jasper's not here.' His voice was low.

'He isn't,' she agreed.

 _Huskily._

She grazed his wrists, moving her hands up his arms simultaneously. The contact hit him hard, shot through his entire body and he moved instantly.

He straightened the entire length of his body over her smaller frame. Gripped both of her wrists firmly in one hand, pressing them into the arm behind her head. Testing her chances of escape, she wiggled, and he sneered at her wolfishly.

'Now I got you.'

She bucked against him. 'Let go.'

'Why?' He sniffed her neck. She smelt good. A faint scent of perspiration – was she _nervous_ , because of _him?_ -, pink pepper and something vaguely resembling…

 _Chocolate?_

He resisted the urge to run his tongue over her skin.

 _I'm not fooled, succubus. I know what you are._

'I'm serious, Robert. Let go.' He heard the threat, but there was something else in her tone. _Amusement._ And something he found much more interesting. Something he wanted to explore.

'Let go of my hands, Robert.'

 _I'd be an idiot to trust a dybbuk._

He should let her go. He didn't want to, though. Except what he wanted didn't matter. Never did. So he released her.

He didn't even have time to respond. The moment he let go of her hands, she flipped them over with ease, straddling him triumphantly. She rested her knees on the insides of his elbows and smugly arched an eyebrow at him.

'Told you to let me go.'

He smirked, placed his hands on her thighs. 'You did.'

'And now _I've_ caught _you_.'

'You have me.' And the words lingered between them.

He kneaded his fingers into her soft flesh and she tensed. Her skin was hot beneath his hands and he squeezed her.

He lifted himself up, until he was eye to eye with her, his hand still on her thighs. She didn't avoid his gaze and he stared straight back. He wondered what she was thinking.

His mouth was dry.

'Are you drunk?' he asked her slowly.

'Are you?'

He shook his head and she smiled. 'I only had some beers.'

He ran one hand over her hips. 'Good.' Slipped beneath her long shirt, fell flat against her spine. Her body was tense, leaning away from him. Her arms hung limp at her side and he took one, lifted it up until he could rest it on his shoulder. Then the other. Her eyes were confused, _dark,_ but still she didn't break eye contact.

 _For fuck's sake, she was beautiful._

'Come here,' he whispered. Massaged her hips, pulling her closer, and she must've felt his _obvious_ arousal as she slid nearer, because the corners of her mouth twitched and he could barely suppress his moan.

'Closer,' he murmured. The hoarseness of his voice had her bury her hands in his hair and he breathed in deeply.

'Close enough?' And he loved the way her voice broke.

'Not nearly.'

And he kissed her. His lips pressed against hers, warm and soft, _tender._ She kissed him back, pressing her body to his as she did so and he groaned against her mouth.

 _Not nearly enough._

He almost growled as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth.

 _And she was perfect and fire and everything he always and never thought she would be._

She pressed herself closer, tighter against him, spreading her legs further so she pressed down on him completely. She surprised herself with the movement and gasped, pulling back. Chest heaving with heavy breathing.

Every inch of his body recoiled as the loss of contact and he nipped forward, trying to claim her lips again. She placed both her hands flat on his chest, pushing him back so she could look at him. He at her. She looked fucking gorgeous and he bend forward to kiss her again. She stopped him.

'What about rather kissing Jasper?' _And fuck, why did she remember?_

She smiled at him teasingly, still slightly out of breath. He sighed, closing his eyes. His cock was fucking throbbing and she decided to bring up _Jasper_. He adjusted their position so his back was against the arm rest. Massaged her softly and ran his thumb gently along the inside of her thigh. Inching higher and higher. His left hand ran up her back, softly coercing her closer as he pressed a kiss against her throat. He heard her sharply breathe in and smiled. He could feel the heat coming from her core. She held her breath and he knew. She pressed her hips down against him, trapping his hand between her thighs. He unhurriedly pushed her knickers to the side, placing his hand flat against her. She mewled – for fuck's sake, she was so beautiful – and rolled her hips again.

He leaned back and leered at her, imperiously.

'What about it?'


	10. ACT II - Part III - Exodus 15:8

_Chapter 8 is the real new chapter. If you haven't read it yet, I guess this is the time. When I uploaded this chapter the first time. I said something was missing, and apparently the new chapter 8 was it._

 _Still in a high thanks to the finale. I loved it. Might need to watch it a third time. Max is an incredible actor. His facial expressions throughout the episode are already giving hints towards the last 10 minutes of the episodes and it's just amazing. Also, very well-written. I've always loved Robert and even though his evil, scheming ways are now exposed, I love him even more. The way this season and especially this episode and his character were written just makes me symphatize. Liam, on the other hand, not so much. Even though he turns out to be right, this season really, really made me dislike him. In all honesty, never truly liked him, so I'm begging you: please do not put him on the throne. The Kingdom will BURN._

 _Anyway, thank you for reading and reviewing. I appreciate every single one of you._

* * *

 **ACT II**

 **Lawlessness.**

 **Part III.**

 _Exodus 15:8_

He thought he was going insane. Except he _wasn't_ and she _was_ actively ignoring him and all he wanted to do was slam his fist into a wall and shout _bloody_ murder.

He couldn't stop thinking about _her_ , about _them._ And his bloody dick fucking twitched every time he thought about _it._

Not even Rachel's dull whining and the PM's unforgiving barrage of democratic _bullshit_ were enough to prevent _that_.

The force with which he hit the wooden desk, had the Queen Mother raise an eyebrow. He ignored her. Couldn't actually give a flying fuck. Let Rachel prattle on and let the PM give him her daily dose of complaining. He wasn't interested either way.

He had seen Poppy about in the Palace – the first time a couple of days ago. She smiled at him and he had wanted to go to her, but Spencer had been talking, Willow hovering as well, and by the time he remembered her being there, she had already left. His mother was keeping her busy – she claimed she needed _his_ GCHQ-liaison to _perfect_ the list, because according to his mother the abominable thing wasn't finished yet and needed more requirements and stipulations and what not - so when he didn't see her the next two days, he had thought nothing of it.

But when his casual "Good afternoon" – _smooth, Robert, very smooth_ – had remained unanswered despite that he _knew_ for a fact she had seen it – because, well, _read receipts –_ he also _knew_ she was bloody ignoring him _._

 _That presumptuous bint._

The second time he saw her in the palace she called his name and he purposefully turned around and walked the other way. Because hey, two could play that game and he was King, so why should he do the damned chasing?

It wasn't until he was halfway down the corridor when he realised how _ridiculous_ this chain of thoughts was and he turned around just in time to see the hurt look on her face, before she disappeared around the corner.

Perhaps he should've texted her sooner. Maybe should've called? But he'd been damned busy – the PM was about ready to kill him since he was still holding out on signing her _ridiculous_ ban on _dying_ in the Houses of Parliament, reminding him at _every_ opportunity (even when there was none) that he was _not_ part of the parliament and he therefore could _not_ refuse to sign a bill of Parliament and he was equally quick to remind her at _every_ opportunity that her _bloody bill_ was not to pass if he didn't sign it, _and I'm King so I'll do whatever the fuck I please_ even though he was fully aware that _someday_ rather sooner than later he had no choice _but_ to sign the damn bill - and _for fuck's sake_.

He had ignored her for days on end - not on purpose and for good reasons - and _now_ he was piqued she was doing the same and most likely was angry at him as well.

 _I'm a monster._

Belle's Beast, though infinitely more handsome. And he supposed Poppy would make a passable Belle. If only barely so. He ticked his fingers against the surface, impatiently, but in a steady rhythm, and smiled. The wood was similar to her dining table. And _fuck,_ had he enjoyed taking her on that dining table.

 _'What about rather kissing Jasper?'_

He groaned and licked his lips. Thought back to _that moment_ on her sofa.

He had shown her exactly what he thought of kissing Jasper. He had thought he might have been too aggressive with her when he, without warning, had roughly pushed two fingers inside of her. But the way she had moaned, pulling his hair as she had thrown her head back, had made him forego all gentleness. The unforgiving pace he had set with his fingers, two, one, then two again, his thumb on her clit, had her mewling breathlessly and for fuck's sake, he had never heard _anyone_ moan as thrilling as she did. She had been _lost._

 _Lost because of_ him.

She had trembled and he had felt her clench around his fingers and he had wondered why they had never – _why, never? –_ done this before. Because she had _fit_ against him, her wetness and her _cries._

It had been breath-taking.

 _She_ had been breath-taking.

And now she was ignoring him.

In all honesty, perhaps telling her to finish sifting through _that list my mother gave you_ so _we can get started on finding the King a wife for real this time_ hadn't been the smartest thing to say not even an hour after they'd had sex, but he had panicked when he'd heard the familiar and _unwelcome_ rattle of keys in the lock and Jasper had blown their perfect, little bubble of post-coital bliss into a thousand pieces.

 _Or perhaps he had done that himself because he was always running his mouth and never thinking of the consequences._

He had _people_ to take care of _consequences._

All he had to take was _her._

On her sofa, in her bedroom, on the _dining table._

He had thrust her over that table, had pressed her flat against it. Used his knee to spread her legs as he had bend over her.

'You got me,' she had whispered.

And for fuck's sake, _had he taken her._

She had keened out his name when he had pulled her hair and he had been so _close,_ so close then. Because, he had realized, nothing would _ever_ him so undone as hearing her come and breathe out his name.

' _Robert_.'

He closed his eyes, throat dry.

'Robert!' His mother was glaring at him.

He felt the familiar throbbing in his pants and he growled.

He was an _idiot_.

 _Pride and arrogance, I have those in abundance._

'I'm taking a break.' Got up, shoved his stool back forcefully.

'Where are you going?'

He looked at Rachel sharply, his hands balled into fists, resting against the table.

'I said' – he practically spat the words out – 'I'm taking a break.'

He didn't slam the doors behind him and after a couple of seconds he heard Jasper follow him.

 _Good._

He looked over his shoulder. 'We're going for a ride.'

Jasper nodded. 'Where to?'

'Poppy's.'

The sound of Jasper's footsteps fell away. Robert sighed and turned around.

'Why?' Jasper had his eyes narrowed.

'What do you mean, why?'

'Why are we going to Poppy's?'

 _None of your bloody business._

'Because I need to talk to her.'

'It's already late,' Jasper said.

'She'll be awake.'

'Call her. Text her.'

'She's not answering.'

Jasper stepped up closer to him, scowling. Looked at him like they were the same. Just two men. Not the King and just a lowly bodyguard.

Discipline is what all his subjects seemed to lack, Robert realized. Fucking discipline and respect.

 _I am so not in the mood for this._

'I told you not to do anything stupid.' _Oh Jasper, you fool._

He moved fast, furiously. Stepped forward, eyes narrowed, and forcefully flung Jasper against the wall. The painting next to them shook, but it didn't fall. His forearm he pressed against Jasper's throat, his right hand grabbing the man's shirt firmly.

'I am King.' They were almost nose to nose. Jasper did not look away. 'I am King and you are _nothing_. You don't tell me what to do. Understood?'

He increased the pressure on Jasper's throat, shoved him just for good measure. ' _Understood?'_

Jasper nodded slowly, adjusted his tie when Robert released him. 'Whatever you say, Hercules.'

Robert pretended not to hear him.

There were no words spoken between them when they drove to her place, but the silence was more telling than anything else.

'Stay here.'

He briskly walked the small distance from the car to her front door, but knocked on it as calmly as he could.

 _Knock, knock, who's there?_

She didn't even seem surprised to see him on her doorstep.

'Hey.' She smiled and her tone was painfully bright.

 _I see through your bullshit, witch._

'Did you boys miss me?'

'Finally decided you missed me?'

He pulled the cap of his snapback further down- the only disguise _anyone_ had ever gotten him to wear when _incognito_ in public -, angling himself so Jasper couldn't see her from the car. _Wished Jasper would just fuck off altogether._ He looked at her and she smirked in reply. The grin didn't reach her eyes, though. And he hadn't heard the footsteps, but he knew.

'Jasper,' he said sharply. 'I thought I told you to stay in the car.'

'Sir-'

'Go for a _walk_ , Jasper.' He hated repeating himself.

She looked past him, was looking at Jasper, and it was like a punch to the gut when she shook her head. Barely noticeable, just the tiniest of movements, but he saw anyway.

He slammed his hand against the doorframe, barely containing his anger, _disappointment._

'I said, go for a walk, _Jasper_ ,' he said slowly, head bowed, voice controlled.

But Jasper placed a hand on his shoulder.

'We should return to the Palace, Your Majesty.'

His tone was soothing and _since when was Jasper such an expert on human emotion?_

'Tomorrow's a new day,' Jasper continued. 'You can talk then.'

'Jasper's right,' she said. And she had given up all pretence of smiling. She looked tired. Angry, really. He searched her face, tried to look into her eyes, but she avoided his gaze. Stared steely ahead.

 _He didn't blame her. He'd been a dick._

'I want to talk _now_.'

And he knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he _needed_ to talk.

'There's nothing to talk about,' she shot back.

'Don't give me that crap,' he hissed. And he was faintly aware of Jasper moving. 'You _know_ we need to talk.'

'About what? That _list of potential wives_ you wanted me to finish?' She rolled her eyes. 'Don't worry. I'll make sure to deliver the updated one to your desk as soon as I'm finished with it, Robert _.'_

'Poppy-'

'Don't _Poppy_ me, Robert.' In any other situation he would have loved her fierceness, her temper, her _passion._ But not now. She needed to _fucking_ listen to him and shut her _bloody_ gob. 'You've made your point real clear, my friend. Not only were your parting words a _real treat,_ but then you ignore me for four days. Better yet, I'm pretty sure you didn't even notice I wasn't there for at least half of those days.'

And he smiled despite his predicament, because she knew him so well. Was this something new? Or was he just now noticing?

'I'm not mad at you, Robert,' she sighed. 'I just don't want to talk to you right now. And I'm pretty sure you have better things to do than stand in front of my door.'

Except _he hadn't._ There was nothing better than _this._

Her.

'I'm sorry for what I said the other day,' he started and she scoffed.

'It was the truth,' she shrugged.

'Poppy-'

'No.' She cut him off again. 'It _is_ the truth. You are a King and I'm the person tasked to find you a wife. Some casual fuck won't change that.'

And he wondered how the use of _one simple word_ could bruise him _this_ much. Cause such anger in him. Because he was furious and aching and offended at the same time.

 _Casual? Really. Is that what you think of me?_

Jasper cursed and Robert could see him clench his fists, the man's jaw a sharp line of _I'm going to fuck you up_.

 _Funny._

 _'_ You had sex?'

And the question was so redundant, both he and Poppy smiled. But his heart was still beating fast and when Jasper repeated his question, he responded.

'We had sex,' Robert said and he let the emotion he was most familiar with run loose. 'So what? What's it to you, Jasper?'

'Robert,' Poppy shook her head. 'Don't do this. Just go home.'

He smirked, spread his hands. 'Don't do what? Discuss our _casual_ fuck with him? He asked, didn't he. Maybe we can compare notes. He used to fuck you too, right?'

He shrugged and somewhere, _somewhere_ in the back of his mind, the pained look on Poppy's face registered. Somewhere. In the back of his mind. The _very_ back.

'Why are you acting like a dick, Robert,' she said.

'Why are you acting like it didn't mean anything?' he spat back.

'Because it _didn't_!'

He staggered backwards, knew he did, even though he would never admit it.

 _Not to anyone._

'You're just in the business of spreading your legs for anyone, then?'

 _Silence._

'You should fuck off, Robert,' she spoke slowly, every word carefully enunciated, her hand firmly on Jasper's arm. 'Before you say something you can't take back.'

He could barely breathe. _Too late for that_.

 _And this woman truly is a demon. Have mercy on me, please._

The way she stood there, slightly behind Jasper - sometime during their _talk_ his _bodyguard_ had positioned himself between the two of them - not willing to look at him like he was some bloody demon – _you, you are the demon! -,_ while he had done _nothing_ wrong – and hadn't he, truly? -, hit him in so many places he didn't even know where it hurt the most.

He didn't need hurt.

'I just wanted to talk to you.' And he hated _this._

Pain was for the weak. He'd had his fair share of grief – _Father, Simon, King; Kathryn_ – and he was above all of that now. He was _King._ Why was he grovelling at this _serpent's_ door? He was _above_ and she was _beneath._ They had made a grave mistake, the two of them, and it was nothing more than that.

'I'm sorry.' _He was._ Sorry about everything. Jasper had warned him not to do anything stupid.

 _Should've listened to the bastard._

He turned and walked back towards the Rover. No use looking back.

A mistake.

Started the car.

 _Stupid._

Jasper could find his own way back.

Nothing more than _that_.

And when she texted him, later that night, that she was _sorry_ too, he was of a mind to throw his phone off the balcony. The irony wasn't lost on him, when he texted her "fuck off".

 _Because I'd gladly fuck her again._

The sight of her, eyes closed, her head thrown back as she rode him. Her fingers in near fatal exuberance clutching as his chest as she rolled her hips and sank down on him, her breasts bouncing in rhythm.

Fuck's sake, he'd give the world to have her fuck _him_ again.

The world, but not a Kingdom.

It was better this way.

Because _never_ his Kingdom.

 _Fuck off_ , he texted.

He was King and she just a commoner.

It wouldn't work out.

 _Not that he had wanted it to anyway._


	11. ACT II - Part IV - Exile

_Hi there. It's been a while. Sorry for the wait. Wednesday are the elections so after that I'll have more time to write. Not my favorite chapter, because after that amazing finale my Robert decided he wanted to be just as deliciously evil as the show's Robert and that just wouldn't work for this story. Thank you for bearing with me!_

* * *

 **ACT II.**

 **Lawlessness.**

 **Part IV.**

 _Exile._

Poppy's return to the Palace was so smooth that he hardly noticed. It was as if nothing had ever happened and perhaps nothing truly ever had. They slipped into the familiar routine of her annoying the fuck out of him and him utterly _despising_ her.

'You're her _boss,'_ had said Jasper wisely. 'Whatever happened, happened. Now let's get back to normal. She's not for you and you're not for her.' And if the man was overstepping his boundaries, Robert decided to let it go. Just this once. Some battles weren't worth fighting. Especially since the man was right.

It was easy, surprisingly so, because every time she opened that enormous mouth of hers, he had the urge to stuff a sock in it – preferably one of Liam's, because his sweaty feet were _legendary_ – and push her down some stairs. Just like the old times.

 _Pestilent, little bint._

He felt like throttling her when she suggested he invite Kent over for lunch since she _meets so many of the criteria your mother has set for your future wife_. Actually had to physically refrain himself from doing so when she started reciting Bible verses during lunch while explaining to his family – extended and all and much to Beck's amusement – that it's _quite_ Biblical to simply _lay hold on_ a virgin and _know_ her, because then she'd be _his,_ resulting in his mother coming up with yet _another_ list, this time consisting of the names of Eligible _Celebates_. He'd had Poppy removed from the Palace Admittance  & Free Access List afterwards. It had been a bloody ridiculous move since she actually _worked_ at the Palace, but at least it had given him two days of peace. To try to salvage some of this much coveted peace, he forbade the Palace employees to have breakfast, lunch or dinner with _any_ of the members of the Royal family and he made sure any sort of contact between the commoners and the Royalty would be frowned upon.

Eleanor _hated_ him for it. He couldn't care less. Jasper was extremely low on his list of acceptable people – he personally blamed the man for _everything_ that was wrong in his life at the moment and the little shit had been _belittling_ and _criticizing_ Robert ever since that day at Poppy's house – so Robert felt like he hit two birds with one stone.

 _Splendid._

But in between moments – in between having Baker and Frost escort Poppy from the Dining Room and telling the latter he can fuck off as well, in between cursing at her and rolling his eyes as she stomped away displeased, in between agreeing to lunch with Kent and imagining murdering Poppy - Robert watched her – watched her more often and more eager than he was comfortable with – and he could do naught but conclude _everything_ had changed, no matter how hard he – _they_ – tried to pretend like it hadn't.

 _Everything had changed._ Most of it wasn't even her fault.

And it had been hard before, but now he found it nearly impossible to be civil to her. He preferred vulgar, crude, lewd – preferred fucking her on his desk and _fuck all who saw._

He groaned and they all – _all_ \- looked at him. Jasper knowingly. Robert scoffed at him. The ungrateful turd should be grateful he was _allowed_ inside the study and wasn't forced to wait outside, considering the ban on Plebeian-Royalty-shenanigans. But this was a family meeting and Eleanor and Helena _both_ had dubbed Jasper _family_ – one sandwich short of a picnic, they were. Poppy and Rachel were allowed in because _apparently_ his family meetings and problems were their main source of income.

Bloody _proles._

Poppy glanced at him and he bared his teeth at her. She smiled, gently, but turned away when he narrowed his eyes. He wasn't falling for her tricks. Got done in once, but not twice. _Never twice_.

'What are you groaning about?' Liam snapped. 'You're not the one who has to put his engagement on hold because his older brother is too impotent to find a girlfriend on his own.'

Ah yes, the _current_ issue at hand. The reason for this disastrous meeting. Because apparently his halfwit of a brother had _proposed_ to his girlfriend who then - against all odds - had said _yes_ \- and in all honesty, Robert had truly thought Willow was better than that - resulting in the hissyfit Liam was currently throwing in the King's study. Because, _no Liam,_ _I will not bless this marriage. I do_ not _sanction it._

'If you'd followed the rules and line of succession, Liam,' he replied, 'and remembered that you're just the _spare_ there wouldn't have been a problem at all. Hashtag King Liam is long dead. Seems like you are the only one not accepting this.'

' _Robert,'_ Helena hissed and he felt more than saw Poppy move closer.

'I am King, little brother,' he continued. 'Therefore you only marry once I already am.'

'So Willow is doomed to forever stay a Prince's _Mistress_?'

' _Liam!'_ Helena glared at her two sons, seeking support from her daughter who had inconspicuously shifted to the far wall against which Jasper was leaning amusedly.

'Who even gave you _permission_ to propose?' Robert said exasperated. 'What were you _thinking_?'

'Since when do I need permission to fucking propose to the woman I love?'

'Since you're the _spare_ and not the King.' Jasper slapped a hand over Eleanor's mouth, but apparently not quick enough. Liam flicked her the finger.

'You're just jealous because you know _he_ ' – he jabbed a finger in Jasper's direction – 'will _never_ marry you.' Liam hissed.

'And you're just bitter because you will _never_ have a crown,' Eleanor spat back just as viciously. 'You _cannot_ marry without the consent of the reigning monarch, Liam, and you damn well know it. And Robbie's not giving it, so get over yourself.'

He was grateful, immensely so, for his sister's support and he wondered if she'd still be this fierce had the roles been reversed. If her American vagabond had proposed to her _– had finally grown some balls_ – only for Robert to tell him he disputed the engagement. Then again, he would _never_ object to any marriage of hers. _Never._ He wanted her to be happy. But most of all, she mattered even less.

 _Less than a spare._ A role of such unimportance she had always struggled with it. Not anymore, though. Not after Jasper.

'I cannot give you permission, Liam,' he sighed. 'You're next in line. It won't do for you to marry before the King. And since mother has already decreed I find a wife before the end of the year and the entire Kingdom is aware of my search, it would be a mockery to my people to have the first Royal marriage of this generation be not only that of the spare, but also to a _commoner._ '

'How _dare_ you?! _' –_ but Willow's hand on his arm cut him off.

'It's okay, Liam,' she said softly. 'He's right.'

'Are you _kidding_ me?'

'She certainly is not,' Helena said. 'There've been enough scandals. It's time we do it right.'

'Scandals _you_ created because you couldn't keep your legs together like some common slag,' and _Father always said Liam was the emotional one._

The slap resounded and everyone was quiet all at once. Helena and Liam stared at each other, the Queen Mother's hand still raised, the imprint it made on Liam's cheek already burning red. James stared at the both of them stoically, while Baker did the same, albeit wide-eyed.

But Robert only felt anger. Surging white-hot through his veins. The _outrage._

And his rise was like a roar, a lion exploding forward on its hind legs, and it was almost in slow motion that he saw his fist connect with Liam's nose, saw his brother's head snap backward, the blood spurting from his nose. He distantly heard Eleanor yelling, or maybe it was Willow. He couldn't care less.

'You will _not_ speak to our mother like that. _Not ever_ _!_ '

He wanted to move forward, was still fuming – _blazing_ – but there was a hand on his arm, curled around his biceps and its touch was so familiar that he stopped in his tracks. Looked at that hand and the arm it belonged to, the body it was part of. This _woman_ he knew so _intimately_ yet _casually._

'Out,' he bellowed. 'Everybody _out._ '

They all moved as one towards the doors – Willow supporting Liam, Helena already gone when he thought to look for her - and he placed his hand on top of Poppy's before she could retreat.

 _Stay_.

Not that he would ever ask.

Jasper lingered by the door, James close behind him. Robert eyed his bodyguard and Jasper stared back, challengingly. His gaze flicked to Poppy's hand still on his arm. He could clearly see Jasper stiffen.

'You can go too. Close the door behind you.'

Jasper raised an eyebrow questioningly.

'You're not needed in here.'

But Jasper shook his head. 'I'm not letting you alone with her.'

Robert snorted, and perhaps this battle needed to be fought, because Jasper was overstepping his boundaries a lot lately.

'I don't think she wants me to leave,' Jasper continued and again Robert looked at her hand.

On _my_ arm and not yours, Jasper.

'I think she wants you to leave,' Robert replied. 'Besides. I'm her _boss. And I'm_ yours _too_. So get the fuck out of my study before you really piss me off.'

Jasper's hands curled into fists at his last words and Robert smirked at him. ' _What?_ '

'She's my _friend,_ Robert,' Jasper said hotly. 'The only friend I have outside of this godforsaken palace so please –'

'And I'm your _King.'_ His voice was deep, resounding through the entire study and Jasper took a step back. 'Remember your place, _bodyguard._ You seem to be needing a lot of reminding lately and my patience is wearing thin.

'You seem to be forgetting that by the grace of God and I, _you_ 're _shagging_ my sister. The _only_ sister I have in this _godforsaken_ palace. So just imagine the lengths I would go to, to protect _that_ sister, were I to believe you've suddenly become a burden to me. A _nuisance_ to be removed _._ I wonder who you'd value more then? Your _friend_ or the girl you claim to love?'

He smiled, all teeth and no joy.

Jasper stared at him, mouth agape.

'Off you go, bodyguard. Make yourself scarce the rest of the week.'

 _Shifty son of a bitch._

'That was a bit unnecessary.' Poppy quirked an eyebrow at him and he shrugged. 'I don't care much about your opinion, Calliope.'

She sighed, smiled sadly. 'So this is how it's going to be?'

Her fingers rested in the hollow of his elbow, softly squeezing. _Determined._

'This is how _what_ is going to be?' he asked stubbornly. He turned slightly away from her, but not too far. He liked the feeling of the heat of her skin burning through his shirt. His heart sped up when she let go, afraid to completely lose contact, but then he felt her fingers softly brushing the inside of his forearm before settling possessively around his ring and little finger.

'James,' he said and if the man found the touching of their hands curious, he did well to hide it. 'Make sure Jasper knows he's not welcome in the Palace during the remainder of this week. Inform my sister as well and then keep her away from me until next Monday. Watson seems like a decent replacement for Jasper.'

James knew better than to question his King's orders, especially when he was in a mood. He exchanged a quick glance with Poppy, who shrugged. Robert caught their looks and lifted an eyebrow. Finally moved away from Poppy, jerking his hand from her grip. _Suddenly annoyed._

 _'_ Something the matter?' he asked sharply.

'Apologies, Your Majesty,' James said solemnly. 'I'm on it.'

'Good,' he said, turning his back on them both. 'You can leave.'

He walked towards his desk, where a crystal decanter of whiskey stood waiting. He didn't bother using a glass, just pulled the stopper out and pressed the entire thing against his mouth. Took a deep swig and sighed. His family was a _fucking_ mess. Always had been. And it seemed there was nothing he could do to fix it. They were all bloody idiots.

 _Me the biggest of all._

But his hands were tied. It simply wouldn't do for Liam to marry before him and after the boy's display earlier – he gritted his teeth, because _how dare that insolent youth?!_ – he was of a mind to never sanction this bloody marriage. A fucking fool, _that_ Liam was.

'I swear to God, Liam,' he grumbled. 'You'll be the death of me, you fucking prick.'

He took another swig, and then one more. When he sat down on the leather sofa, he was surprised to see Poppy hadn't left yet.

'You're still here.'

She shrugged and only for a moment he saw uncertainty plain on her face. Then it was gone.

'What are you doing, Robert?' she asked gently. She moved closer and he felt like she was stalking him. Like he was her prey. He swallowed deeply.

'Teaching him a lesson. Teaching them both a lesson.'

He assumed she was talking about Jasper, but perhaps he was wrong. _Liam?_

She sat down in front of him, between his legs and he was _appalled_ at her lack of reserve, her casualness. Her right hand rested on his knee, while the other sought his out. He avoided eye contact when she curled her fingers around his, pulled his hand closer. Pretended not to notice. The recovered contact made his breathing hitch, though.

'You're angry at me,' she said softly. 'Don't take it out on them.'

He narrowed his eyes at her. 'This has nothing to do with you. This is about my brother acting like a bloody idiot and Frost being an insolent, little bastard. He needs this time off to do some thinking.'

He ran a hand through his hair, pinched the bridge of his nose.

'Frost is as stubborn and stupid as my brother. You know he's been walking around with an engagement ring? Probably worth not even a quarter of what my sister deserves. She's lucky I've already accepted that she's into that third-rate shit.'

'Yes, _clearly_ you've accepted that,' Poppy murmured. He scowled but ignored her comment, continued speaking.

'If he thinks he can run his mouth to me, he needs to get his own life in order first. So this is the King doing his _bodyguard_ a favor. He has to man up and commit to my sister. Make it official and slide that ring on her finger. And I will deal with the repercussions later. Because that's nothing less than what she deserves.'

'You just told Liam you wouldn't sanction his marriage,' she said softly.

Robert rolled his eyes at her. 'That is _Liam._ My heir. This is _Eleanor._ There's a difference there. Liam and Jasper know this damn well. They act like it, but both my brother and my bodyguard are not complete idiots. Besides, Eleanor deserves this. She deserves a man who irrevocably chooses her. If Frost cannot do that, he needs to get back in line. Eleanor can have _any_ man she wants and for some reason she chose him. He's been loitering around the Palace like he owns it. Trying to tell _me_ what to do. It doesn't work like that. _Nobody_ tells me what to do. So Jasper needs to get his head out of his ass. Stop messing my sister around like she's just some random lay. Make an honest woman out of her and maybe _then_ he can give me advice on how to live my life.'

He sneered.

'The two of you are good at that, you know. _Casually fucking royalty_.'

Her fingers tightened on his knee as she looked away.

She didn't let go off his hand, though.

For some reason he was relieved.


	12. ACT II - Part V - Lapidate

**Another one. Again, not my favorite, but hey, that's probably because I had to write the name "Liam" more often than I'm comfortable with. Bwegh.**

 **Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **ACT II.**

 **Lawlessness.**

 **Part V.**

 _Lapidate._

He was going to murder Liam. Skin him alive and throw him off the highest tower of Blenheim Palace. Drown him in the trench, decapitate his body and then mount his head on the Palace walls for all to see. A warning.

 _Do not defy me._

Because Robert was fuming. Not even the steady presence of Eleanor, trailing behind him, could calm him down.

'He did an _interview_ with the Guardian,' he growled. 'Fucking got the media involved because he's a bloody dipstick.'

'Robert,' she called pleadingly, but there was no stopping him. He barged down the doors to Liam's room.

'Fucking hell, Liam?!' He held up the newspaper, waved it around in his brother's face.

It looked like Liam had been expecting him, sitting at the edge of his bed almost patiently.

'You've read the article then?'

'I've _read_ the article _then?_ ' Robert repeated incredulously. 'Are you out of your bloody mind? " _Prince Liam bares_ all _about living in his brother's shadow and falling in love."_ The fuck is that _bullshit_?'

'My interview,' Liam said matter-of-factly.

'Sometimes I feel extremely privileged compared to Robert,' his brother quoted, reading straight from the Guardian. 'I had someone absolutely fantastic slip into my life really early on so I never had to experience the massive paranoia when talking to women, the way my brother has, with all the _ferocious_ attention everyone is giving his search for a wife. On the other hand, his almost obsessive need to present a perfect picture to the people, means I too need to live by _his_ rules.'

Eleanor snorted and Robert narrowed his eyes. She shrugged. ' _Dictator_.'

Robert scoffed, but continued reading. 'I want nothing more than to marry the love of my life, but I cannot. I am next in line. This means I need the consent of the reigning monarch to marry. Unfortunately, my _brother,_ the King, cannot approve of the marriage. He's unmarried himself, _heirless. It wouldn't be right._ I won't wait forever, though. With or without his consent, I will get married _._ '

Robert chuckled darkly. ' _With or without his consent.'_ He turned to Eleanor, arms spread incredulously. _'_ Can you believe this little _shit_?'

'It gets even worse,' and it was becoming entirely too difficult to refrain himself from wrapping his hands around Liam's scrawny, little throat and start squeezing. 'Because _apparently_ my baby brother feels sorry for me. Because of my _loneliness._ Because he has what I don't have. Because he doesn't want me to be _bitter_. Clearly he forgot to tell them about the time when I had someone I loved, only for him to take her from me. But hey, Liam's world, right?'

He shook his head. 'You fucking cock. Didn't even have the balls to warn me beforehand, didn't you? You've made a complete fool out of me. Out of _everyone._ You're mocking our people by disrespecting _me._ I told you to wait and instead, _once again_ , Liam is only thinking of _himself._ A mockery of the constitution, this artificial marriage of yours, but of course _you don't care._ '

He was shouting, but Liam wasn't backing down. He had gotten off from the bed, stood almost nose to nose with his brother now.

'No, Robert' He too raised his voice. 'It would be a _mockery_ of _you._ _That_ is why you wouldn't consent. This has nothing to do with your so-called people and what is right or wrong. This is all about your _damned pride._ '

He pushed him, both hands against his chest, and Eleanor sprang forward, forced herself between the two, arms spread wide.

'I said nothing untoward,' Liam hissed. 'I didn't call you a selfish bastard. I didn't tell them you're a controlling prick. I wanted to, but I didn't. Because I respect you as my _King._ But I _will_ marry Willow, Robert. One way or another. The sooner you accept, the easier it'll be for you.'

'But why are you in such a hurry, Liam?' Eleanor asked. 'Why can't you just _wait_?'

Liam shook his head. 'I've waited too long already, Len. I want to get married now. _We_ want to get married now. And _he_ is going to sanction us. I promise you that.'

The boy was out of his mind. Out of his bloody mind. There was _no way._ Not after this little stunt. This was Palace business, _family business,_ and the bleeding prat had taken it to the press. There was absolutely no way Robert would _ever over his dead body_ sanction this fucking marriage.

He strode to the doors, his mouth a thin line, his hands clenched into fists. 'I'm done with you, Liam. You're single-handedly ruining this Kingdom. _Ruining me_. Well _fuck_ you, then.'

He walked away without looking back, leaving Eleanor to stare at her twin. Brows furrowed together in a disapproving frown. 'I hope you're happy now.' Then she turned away from him and followed Robert out of the room.

That night Liam's interview was featured on nearly _every_ channel. Social media was buzzing and 'What now?' Peter Hunt, Royalty expert, was asked during yet _another_ BBC special broadcast. Because the people weren't stupid. They knew what Liam's " _cannot"_ meant.

 _The King_ will not _consent._ And the Prince doesn't _care._

'He'd have to renounce the throne,' Peter Hunt said after a moment of thoughtful deliberation. 'The Crown Act ensures his marriage will not be declared void, but if the Prince weds without the King's consent – and this interview quite strongly suggests that King Robert has already rejected his younger brother's marriage – the Prince will be taken out of the line of succession and he will be stripped of his titles.'

His answer had the entire country rioting.

Even Jennie Bond seemed outraged, because 'What King refuses his own _brother_ the joys of marriage? A bitter _one,_ I tell you. A _bitter_ one.'

And suddenly #KingLiam was trending again – even Robert, as angry as he was, could appreciate the _irony_ – and the Palace was in a state of emergency.

Once again they were all gathered in his study – Eleanor, Liam, his mother, and Spencer, Rachel and Poppy. Thank God Jasper was still banned from the Palace. Robert could all too well imagine the smug smirk on his bodyguard's face.

 _The weasel._

And that applied to both Jasper _and_ Liam.

'I don't even want to become King anymore,' Liam sighed, head in his hands. 'I don't even want to be his _heir_. Kingship is a burden. Look what it did to _him._ '

'Yet you contributed to an article that made your brother look like a bad guy and now the people suddenly remember that one day they actually thought you were going to become their King,' Poppy said. Her tone was sharp – perhaps sharper than she had intended – and Liam cringed.

'And he needs an heir,' Rachel was quick to point out. 'So please don't say you don't want to be King nor heir. With the way the walls have ears here and people just randomly go off and give interviews, next thing you know it's all over the newspapers and people will be _expecting_ you to renounce the throne. With all due respect to Eleanor, but when it's not you first in line, it's the _Princess_ …'

'None taken,' Eleanor grimaced. 'Simply _thinking_ of becoming Queen makes me nauseous.'

'That makes two of us,' Robert said. Eleanor frowned at him and cursed. 'Fucking prick.'

'I already died once, though,' he continued, unaware. 'So who knows when it might happen again.'

'Keep it up and I'll make it a certainty,' Eleanor muttered beneath her breath. Poppy snorted.

'I'm not renouncing the throne,' Liam interjected. 'I'm just saying that no one needs to worry about hashtag King Liam returning.'

'Nobody was worried about that,' Robert bellowed, 'until you had to open your conceited, self-regarding maw and belch forth a whole lot of malarkey at some backward thumbsucker who doesn't know cock from arse.'

He was red in the face, leaning on his fists over his desk. It was uncommon for him to lose his temper like that. Rare to actually see him blow up. Even when he'd punched Liam the other day, his movements, his stature, had been dignified. Not now, though. Robert was raging, done.

 _One hundred percent done._

'What are you yelling about?' Liam snapped. 'All you need to do is _sanction my fucking marriage._ '

Robert chuckled. 'What did you call me again, brother dearest? Bitter, right?

'Well, I'll show you bitter. I will _never –_ do you hear me, Liam? – _never_ sanction your marriage. Repudiate your bloody titles and get the fuck out of here if you want to get married, because you're _not_ doing it under my roof, _not_ while I'm King.'

A hand on his arm and he half expected Poppy to be there when he spun around, but instead he found Eleanor, taking up half of his personal space, digging her nails into his arm. Liam opened his mouth to speak, but one look from her had him close it again. She turned to Robert completely, searched his face until she settled on his eyes.

'Robbie,' she started, and there was something there. _Compassion, understanding,_ family.

And Robert wished he could explain it properly to his sister, but he knew he would never get the words out right. Could never explain to her all the sacrifices he'd had to make to get where he was. Liam had been right about one thing. He wanted to paint a perfect picture, wanted the perfect monarchy, but it seemed first his sister with her American bastard and now his brother and his outlawed marriage were not willing to cooperate.

When were they _ever_ going to give him a break?

'Don't you want him to be happy?' Eleanor asked. Robert frowned, but didn't reply.

'I understand, Robbie, really, I do. And what he did was incredibly stupid. He should've _never_ spoken to the press. Not about this. And I am angry as well. But try to support him. Publicly congratulate him. Say you consented to his marriage, but simply weren't aware he had been in such a rush. Tell them that's why it's not in the Gazette and the Privy thing. Rachel and Poppy will figure out the legal stuff.

'The country needs an heir – a capable one - and you need Liam. Grant him his titles. Permit him an allowance and a home. Swallow your pride and spare Liam's. He's our _brother_. Family is all we have.'

 _My brother. The cock._

'The people will hate me,' he sighed.

'They won't,' she replied. 'Besides, we will love you. Right?'

He glanced away and his eyes met Poppy's. Dark and unreadable, but of one thing he was certain. His resolve had already cracked.

And he hated how his sister could so easily _sway_ him. He knew of only _one_ other person who had such a hold on –

 _No._ He wouldn't let his mind stray _there_. That was done and over with. He was her boss. She his employee. Nothing more. Nothing less. And maybe the _people_ were right. Maybe Liam was right.

Perhaps he was _bitter._

'I will do this,' Robert eventually sighed. Defeated. By a skinny girl with hardly any titles of her own. _I love you, Len._

 _She_ was watching him as well, a tiny smile on her face. And now that he had noticed, he wished he hadn't, because perhaps her gaze had convinced him just as much as Eleanor's words had.

'But I meant what I said,' he said crisply, his hands still balled into fists. 'I am _done_ with Liam. He used an _unsanctioned_ interview to basically _blackmail_ me into agreeing to his _unsanctioned_ marriage.' He turned, sought out his younger brother. His brows were lowered, his jaw tense. 'I want you _out._ By morning. _Spencer' –_ the chamberlain jumped to attention when Robert's hard gaze landed on him – 'shall make sure Marlborough House will be prepared for you. Move the Commonwealth Secretariat to the Thatched House Lodge. I'm certain aunt Alexandra won't mind the company. Any communication about wedding plans and such shall go through Spender. Don't bother me with it, Liam. Rachel can help set up my brother's allowance and Calliope will help _me_ prepare my speech. Now _off._ All of you. _Begone_.'

And then he was alone, his heart still racing and his muscles still tense, and _fuck Liam._ Truly, _screw_ him.

Poppy returned barely half an hour later, silently, two steaming cups of coffee in her hand. Too soon, but long enough for him to calm down and put on a façade again. He smiled at her when she asked whether he was okay and they worked on his speech the rest of the night, pretending everything was alright. It was better that way. Easier. Better to not think of how badly he wished she would hold him. Tell him he wasn't _alone._ That Liam was wrong.

 _That she loved him._

But he didn't remember wishing _that_ the next day and neither would he ever admit it.

He went on national television the following morning and did exactly what Eleanor suggested. He publicly congratulated his dipshit of a brother. He didn't read from a piece of paper because Poppy had told him it'd be more authentic if he knew his speech by heart. Perhaps then the people would believe it came from the heart.

But it was exactly as expected.

His people could be cruel. They were just like _him._ Only now their unkindness was aimed at him and not some guileless fool.

The King that was _surpassed_ by his baby brother. The King who time and time again _failed_ to find a wife. The King _without_ an heir of his own. The King who had opposed his own brother's marriage. Because even if he didn't say so, they could all read between the lines.

 _Surpassed, failed, without._

Eleanor was waiting for him in his room, a bottle of red wine in her hand. Even though it was only eleven in the morning, she poured them both a glass and made herself comfortable on his bed. He sat down on the sofa, accepted the wine she offered him.

 _A peace offering._

'This doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you,' she said, referring to his temporary dismissal of Jasper. 'But I thought you could use the company.'

He nodded.

'For what it's worth,' she said, 'I'm proud of you. You did the right thing.'

'For what it's worth,' he returned the sentiment. 'I don't _hate_ Jasper.'

She laughed. 'Is this your idea of an apology? Because I already know that. Tell me something new.'

'He loves you?'

She threw a pillow at him, using more force than was necessary, but smiled. 'You're lucky you're my brother and I love you.'

'And Jasper's lucky that you're my sister and I love you.'

'Apology accepted then.'

He closed his eyes, lengthened himself over the entire sofa and rested his head on his arm.

There was a knock on one of his open bedroom doors and then footsteps.

'Hey.' He could hear the smile in Eleanor's voice and for a second – only a millisecond – he thought somehow Jasper had found his way back into the Palace. 'I thought you'd still be home after such a long night. Watching _that one's_ speech curled up on some Shoreditch couch with _my_ boyfriend who because of some _lunatic's_ temporary bout of insanity isn't allowed into the Palace until Monday.'

'Said lunatic being my brother, the King, of course,' Eleanor added needlessly.

'I thought _you'd_ be watching _that one's_ speech curled up on some Shoreditch couch with _my_ best friend who because of some lu–'

Robert cleared his throat upon recognizing her voice and peered at her through one open eye. 'Don't push it, Calliope.'

She flashed him a smile and it _almost_ felt like all was normal again.

'I just thought I'd stop by,' she said. 'See if you needed the company. They haven't been saying a lot of nice things about you.'

She glanced at Eleanor. 'But I see you have it all under control, Princess.'

'Well,' she started, glancing at Robert. He was still stretched out on the sofa, one arm behind his head, his almost empty wine glass in the other. He looked –

 _Tragic._

His eyes were closed, but Robert could feel his sister's eyes on him, knew what she was thinking. Her pity _angered_ him. He _abhorred_ it. He craved company, didn't wish to be alone, but he would never force her to stay with him. There was no mercy for him.

'You can go.' When he spoke his voice was hoarse and he had to clear his throat before he continued. 'Go visit your bastard. I know you're dying to.'

Eleanor snorted and he heard her converse softly with Poppy. Too faint for him to make out the words. But then the doors to his room closed and there was a hand on his shoulder.

'Up,' she said. As he lifted his upper body, she slipped in between him and the sofa. Cradled his head in her hands and gently pushed him back down again. His head in her lap and he breathed out contentedly. Opened his eyes and looked up at her face. Her expression almost tender _._

 _I must be going mad._

'Hi there.' She seemed pleased.

He didn't reply, simply studied her face.

'You did good,' she offered. 'Though I'm sure Eleanor already told you that.'

Her eyes darted to the window and back again.

'Liam left. Watson said you refused him entrance to your room this morning. Didn't say goodbye?'

He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes again. 'I have nothing to say to him.'

'It's not just about the marriage, isn't it?' Of course she couldn't let things go. He didn't answer.

'Liam is going to get married. And who knows, maybe next year around this time there'll be some little Willows or Liams running around. Because you know, after you returned from the dead and that whole thing with Kathryn was sorted out, those two actually had the time to get to know each other. Liam wasn't in the spotlight anymore. You took that from him by becoming King.'

He frowned and she lightly touched his closed eyelids with a finger. It tickled.

'You gave him that,' she continued. 'By taking the spotlight away from him, you gave him the most precious gift of all. The opportunity to find true love. And now that he has it, you wish you hadn't done that. Because who's going to take that spotlight away from _you_?'

She wasn't expecting an answer from him, simply kept speaking.

'There's a certain scrutiny that dominates your life, so there's no room, when you find a girl, to get to the point of being comfortable with each other without the entire country invading both her and your privacy. There's no downtime. You can always bump into a reporter, there can always be someone who wants to take a selfie. There's very little private life, which inadvertently also means there's very little room for love.

'So I get it, Robert. I get that it hurts. I understand that it's hard to truly accept that your baby brother now has, what you will never have.

'I get it and it's nothing to be ashamed of.'

She was rubbing smooth circles on his temple, massaging his scalp with her other hand. He was glad he hadn't had a haircut yet. The feeling of her fingers running through his hair was indescribable.

 _Incomparable._

He breathed out heavily. Opened his eyes. He wondered if other men saw her the way he did.

 _Magnetic._

The bloody death of him.

 _Mother of Demons._

He spoke, slowly.

'When I look at them, I wish it was me. Not me in Liam's place, but just _me._ I wish I was the one who had fallen in love so easily, who had grown to love a girl and place a ring on her finger, because I _want_ to. Not because I have to.

'I'm _jealous_ of him. So what does that make me? The worst brother ever?'

'No,' she said, brushing a finger over his cheekbone. 'It means you are human. Just like the rest of us.'

'If I ever marry, ever have children,' he said, 'than I don't want to end up like my father… Trapped.'

'Not if,' she corrected. ' _When_. You're going to marry and you will have a family. And I didn't know King Simon personally, but I know _you_ and the twins and your mother, and I am _certain_ he was never trapped.'

'I just don't see it happening,' he said softly, his voice small. _And how does she always reduce me to this?_

'It _will_ happen,' she said. 'I don't know whether you'll be happy, but I promise it will happen. And you might not love your wife, but you will love your children. And I will always be right _here_.'

It felt like an unspoken agreement.

She kissed the corner of his mouth, chastely, and he found himself reaching for her. Pulled her down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her lips. She kissed him back, slowly, but drew back after a couple of seconds, her lips wet.

'We can't do this.'

She was right. Regrettably.

He asked her, 'Why are you here?'

His head rested in her lap and her hands were in his hair. She pressed a kiss to his temple.

 _Platonically._ Except it wasn't.

And her answer was simple.

'You told me to never let you go, so that's exactly what I'm not doing.'

Unspoken agreement.

He smiled.


	13. ACT II - Part VI - Queen Mother

_I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. Life simply got terribly busy. I haven't given up on this story. Not even close. I am working on something new, though. Expect the next chapter within the week. If you're still here and reading.. Thank you for putting up with me 3_

* * *

 **ACT II.**

 **Lawlessness.**

 **Part VI.**

 _Queen Mother._

'It was _beautiful_.' He smiled, his teeth gnarled together, a tight-lipped affair, but his cousins tittered and giggled and agreed wholeheartedly. And perhaps it _could've_ been beautiful, but _not_ to Robert, not after all the shit Liam put him through to get his _bloody_ wedding.

This fucking wedding Robert had been forced to attend with _Kent_ – _Lady Amelia Windsor,_ his mother _and_ Poppy kept reminding him – and his chagrin was written plainly on his face. Written plainly whenever the cameras weren't directed at him, which, he'd discovered very soon on, was a lot less often than he had expected in the first place. Wasn't this Liam's day? The reporters didn't seem to think so and beneath his obvious irritation, he was loath to admit satisfaction lingered.

 _I'm still King, Liam. More important than you are. No matter how much you pity me._

He sighed, muted the sounds of Maribel and Penelope's voices, and glanced over at Liam and Willow, seated on the dais, elevated above their guests. Liam was speaking animatedly with a distant cousin – Hector, Henry, _unimportant_ – while Willow's hand rested contently on his forearm. The perfect image of marital bliss.

No matter how much I pity _myself._

He chuckled, a low sound lacking any humour, and Kent turned to him. The smile on her face was soft, calm, _serene._

'Are you all right, Robert?' She squeezed his arm and moved her fingers down. Brushed his wrist. He pulled his hand away before she could take hold of it, pretended like he hadn't meant anything by the move when he winked.

'Simply enjoying myself,' he said. 'And of course, the company.' He smiled, broad and all teeth and _fucking charming._

She giggled at that, as his cousins sighed dreamily.

'Such a catch,' Penelope gushed. 'Why are all the good men taken? Really, Maribel, you'll find someone someday.'

'He's not taken,' Maribel said sharply. 'They're here as friends.'

She turned to Robert, seeking his confirmation. He feigned ignorance. Slung an arm almost offhandedly around Kent's shoulder, managed not to stiffen when she leaned into his touch. He heard the familiar flash of cameras – _click, click_ -, bend towards her. Brushed her hair with his nose – she smelled of _roses_ – and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Nonchalantly. Just a moment.

 _Dispassionately._

Click click, _click._

'Just friends my ass,' Penelope said smugly. Maribel kicked her beneath the table and Robert rolled his eyes at the both of them. Penelope was romantic to a fault; Maribel her almost bitter counterpart. He suspected the loss of Maribel's boyfriend had disillusioned the younger twin completely. Lost him to her sister. Robert could sympathize. He knew from personal experience the pain – _dull, dull,_ nothing compared to his present emotions, _nothing_ – of having someone you trust steal away the one you care about.

Brother, girlfriend, love, _life._

He had greeted her earlier, Kathryn. Had shook the hand of her new beau, a handsome enough fellow, better-looking than Liam, _not even close to me, though._ It hadn't been awkward, not even when Liam joined them. When Willow – slightly awkward Willow who when nervous apparently said whatever came to mind – had commented on how at least Kathryn had good taste considering all three her men were exceptionally attractive. It _had_ , though, become uncomfortable when Poppy had laughed, a smile not reaching her eyes and a sound lacking cheer.

But perhaps it had simply been his imagination, because when he had bumped into her sometime later, she had looked happy enough, telling the caterers where to set up, while texting someone – who? – on her phone. Her private phone.

A Royal wedding only a couple of hours away and she was texting on her _private_ phone. He'd hissed, a sharp intake of breath and he had almost choked on it, embarrassingly so. Had stalked past her without even a sidelong glance, a word, a thought.

 _Private phone._ He had no right, but he had been curious. _Was curious._

He had spoken to her every day after _that morning_ in his bedroom. Their unspoken agreement. Her devotion which he had selfishly accepted, even though he knew he could never give her the same in return.

 _But she never expected anything from me in the first place._

She had stayed with him the entire day. His head in her lap; her hands in his hair. Spencer had served them lunch, dinner and a bottle of whiskey too, two, maybe three. The chamberlain had arched an eyebrow, but had said nothing. He had almost made Robert feel bad for firing him a couple of years ago.

They had talked, him and Poppy. About everything and nothing. Even though he couldn't remember the words, wasn't able to recall what they had spoken about, he clearly remembered the feel of her fingers running through his hair. The soothing quality of her voice. Her eyes, looking solely at him. Her scent – not _roses,_ nothing as cliché as that.

A few days later she had cornered him near the kitchens. Had pressed him against a wall and he had been quick to almost instinctively move his hands beneath her silk blouse, his thumbs ghosting over her ribs. She had kissed him. Nothing more than a peck, but he had been so stunned, she had slipped from his arms before his mind had been able to catch up.

She did this often. Cornering him. Not kissing him, not ever again, and maybe he missed it, but he was glad too, because it made things _easy._ Easier. This way he could pretend it was okay. Just friends. _Simply platonic._

The way she at times leaned into his touch. How sometimes she'd let him slip his hands beneath her shirt, fingers ghosting over ribs, hands resting on hips. Her hand on his knee during dinner, hidden beneath the table. Her soft sigh when he kissed her forehead and held her close a bit longer than was necessary.

'You look like you're enjoying yourself, _brother_.' He blinked. The sarcastic tone wasn't lost on him and he mustered up his brightest smile, before he turned towards the voice.

'Eleanor,' he drawled. 'Dearest.' She bared her teeth at him, something resembling a smile, and he grabbed her hand, kissed her knuckles. 'Your _High_ -ness.'

She laughed, the glint in her eyes and Jasper's rolling of his evidence enough.

'You can't expect me to remain sober through this entire ordeal,' she said, holding up her flute of champagne.

'Besides,' her voice dropped to a whisper as she came closer. 'No one is paying attention to me. They're all too curious about the King and his _lady_.'

Kent smiled, but Eleanor's fingers had wrapped themselves around Robert's hand and she pulled him nearer.

'I overheard the Queen Mother speaking with the Duchesses,' she said, barely audible over the general hum in the Throne Chamber, but Robert heard her well enough, 'so I suggest you tone down this little _charade,_ brother, _King._ '

He disentangled himself from Kent, locked eyes with Jasper, whose stone-faced expression showed just the slightest hint of..

 _Of what?_

He rubbed his thumb over Kent's bare shoulder while he stood up. Smiled at her apologetically.

'Go, go,' she urged. 'Have a dance with your sister. Penelope was just telling me about her boyfriend.'

 _Their boyfriend._

He was grateful she so grossly misinterpreted the situation as he followed Eleanor from the room, Jasper lingering, but not far behind. She meandered through the hallways, left, then right and up a floor, until they had reached her wing. Hers and Jasper's.

She sat down on a low, vintage cabinet next to her bedroom door. When he arched an eyebrow, she shrugged.

'The room reeks,' she offered as an explanation. When he seemed unimpressed, she added, 'of sex', causing Jasper to snort and Robert to fake a gag.

'Barbarians,' he muttered.

'We're not all as celibate as you are,' Eleanor and his 'if only you knew' earned him a hard glare from his bodyguard. He could care less.

'Now out with it,' he said. 'The Queen Mother? My so-called charade?'

'Your _charade_ ,' his sister started, 'is having an entirely undesirable effect.'

'What charade?' he questioned. Innocent until proven guilty. They had decided upon it together, him and Poppy.

His mother had been hounding him.

 _Look at Liam. Where's your fiancée? You only have five months, four months, three months left. Do not take me for a fool, Robert. I will take your crown._

She will take my crown.

Spend time with Kent, Poppy had said. Invite her to the wedding. There will be reporters there. Show her off, but not too much. Introduce her, but leave it vague. Don't lead her on, but make the people believe. Make your mother believe.

In what? He had asked.

In whatever they want, she had answered. Put on a charade. Just a little charade.

'Don't take me for a fool, Robert,' Eleanor hissed. 'Do not.'

'I have no idea wh-'

'Robert!' She cut him off, pressed a long-nailed finger into his chest. 'You think I don't know? You think I don't see the occasional touches? The stolen glances? The way you, whenever you're in a room together, seem to gravitate towards each other? I know you, Robert, and I've _never_ seen you look at a girl the way you look at her. So do not, brother dear, take me for a fool. I am not blind.'

How could Eleanor see things he himself wasn't entirely certain of? This _damned_ sister of his. She smirked, crossed her left leg over the right.

'Besides,' she continued. 'Jasper told me.'

 _Traitor._

'I would've figured it out eventually, though,' she added. 'So my argument still stands: don't treat me like an idiot.'

'I like her,' he conceded. 'We had sex once, but that's all there's to it. We're just friends.'

'Good friends,' because he could at least give her that much.

Eleanor snorted, but said nothing.

'She knows I don't want to get married. Not yet anyway. So, she's helping me. Hence the charade. Appease the people, appease our mother. Hang out with Kent in front of the cameras and then in a couple of months come out with an official statement that we're just friends. As long as mother believes I am _trying_.'

'Cute,' Eleanor commented. 'Your GCHQ-liaison, specifically appointed to find you a wife, is helping you avoid marriage. I would've laughed if it wasn't so _stupid._ '

She sighed, uncrossed her legs. Bit her bottom lip and sighed again.

'I was out smoking in the back gardens,' she started. 'And I heard mother's voice. She was telling someone "your daughter's no Grace Kelly". I was amused so I stuck around and inched closer. The other person, a woman, replied that nine million pounds was very steep and mother went on a lengthy monologue. Something about propriety, sovereignty and supremacy. "My son is a King," she said. "The _King."'_

And Eleanor imitation of her mother was spot on.

'"She will be a Queen, lacking nothing. Nine million is but a bargain for my son's hand and the crown that goes with it."

'I only then realised mother was talking to the Duchess of Kent. Mother of Kent.'

She ran a hand through her long, dark hair and Robert followed that hand, then settled on her face again. She watched him through her lashes. He stared right back. And if his heart was pounding, he chose not to show her. She knew anyway, of that he was certain.

'Six million, Robbie,' she said. 'Eventually they decided six million pounds was a good price. I didn't hear much more than that.

'Six million pounds in exchange for a ring on Kent's finger and the title of Queen. _Your wife._

'I'm sorry, Robbie. But I think mother just finalized your engagement.'

He felt hot all of a sudden. Constricted in his tight suit. He pulled loose his tie, opened up the top buttons of his shirt. Tried to swallow, but his throat was dry and it was just _too fucking hot._ He heard Eleanor calling his name, distantly, hadn't even realised he had started walking. Jasper was quick to follow him, but he was hardly aware as he turned a right, narrowly avoided crashing into one of the Palace employees, who had a look of surprise on his face as he registered it was his King wandering about, away from the festivities in the Throne Chamber.

'Your Majesty –'

Robert did not let him finish, asked, 'Have you seen the Queen Mother?'

'Lastly in the gardens,' the man answered. 'With the other ladies and some kinfolk.'

But Robert was already gone, striding down the hallway determinedly, his bodyguard trailing at his back. Down the stairs again. Past the Throne Chamber, where music could be heard coming from. The dancing, then, had started. He did not pause, though. Walked past without a second thought, into the entrance hall, through the great doors, out on the marble stairs. Turned and watched.

And he saw her, his mother, surrounded by a group of mostly women. Talking animatedly. Enjoying her _fucking_ self.

He ran down the stairs, took two steps at the time, and his mother heard him coming. Smiled at him as he approached. He saw her stiffen slightly as she noticed the hard line of his jaw, his narrowed eyes, but she kept the smile plastered on her face. Opened her arms wide to welcome him.

'Robert, sweetheart,' she enthused. And there was something in the sweetness of her voice, some insincerity that he had never heard before, or hadn't bothered to acknowledge, that sparked into life a fire inside of him. It burned, how _he burned_ , and he restrained himself, held his hands balled into fists by his side. But he couldn't keep his words from spilling out as he stepped close to her, his nose inches from touching hers. It was a testament to her courage she held her ground.

'Are you out of your _fucking_ mind?' he spat into her face. She hardly flinched. 'Have you gone mad, _woman_? Trying to _sell_ me like I'm some fucking piece of meat?'

'Your Majesty…' One of them women stepped closer to him. 'Robert.' Laid a hand on his arm and he recognized her as his uncle Cyrus's ex-wife. He snatched his arm away.

'Don't _Robert_ me,' he snarled. 'Leave. All of you. _Leave us now!_ '

Some lingered, but most were quick to exit the gardens and enter the Palace again. Robert waited impatiently, his tolerance diminishing with every second they were taking too long.

'Go, you fuckward,' he roared when the last of his mother's friends remained standing on the stairs, looking at them. The man fled inside almost immediately after.

'Your father always said you had too much of a temper,' Helena said sharply. If his hand itched, he chose to ignore it. Simply glared at his mother and told her to sit down. He himself remained standing, Jasper silent in his shadow. _Steady._

'Six million pounds, _Queen Mother?'_ he said scathingly. Her eyes widened slightly, but she was fast to recover as she tilted her chin up. 'What of it, _King_?'

'That is what you deem me worthy of?'

'That is the least amount she should pay to be ours,' she shot back.

'Ours or mine?' he said.

Helena pursed her lips, rolled one shoulder as if preparing herself.

'I was planning to talk to you after the wedding.'

'And tell me what?' he chuckled darkly. 'Son, I've sold you to the highest bidders. You and your crown?'

She sighed. Straightened out her dress. 'You weren't supposed to find out like this.' Her eyes narrowed, suspicion evident in them. 'How _did_ you find out?'

'If Calliope told you,' she muttered and Robert whipped his head around. ' _What_ did you say?' Her smirk had hardly been there, less than a second, and he missed it completely, as Helena schooled her face in a shocked expression, when he asked, 'Poppy knew?'

'Tell me,' he demanded, when she remained quiet.

'It was her idea,' Helena confessed softly.

 _Confessed._

If only Robert knew.

'She told me the story of Grace Kelly,' Helena continued. 'How she had to pay a two-million-dollar dowry to marry into the Grimaldi's. To become a _Princess_. Amelia, upon marrying you, would become _Queen._ So why then not have the Windsor's pay as well. After all, you, Robert, are King of the greatest country on Earth.'

'Some Americans might disagree with you there, mother,' Robert said drily and Jasper snorted. A most uncharacteristic sound for him, but Robert was glad for the distraction as his mother took her time sending a scathing look towards the bodyguard.

He could clearly hear her voice. _Spend time with Kent. It'll be good for the both of you_. Make them believe, she had said.

 _But in the meantime, you're plotting with my mother? Against me?_

He could not believe it to be so.

'You lie,' he said, interrupting whatever it was his mother was telling Jasper. It could not have been something very nice.

Helena smiled sadly. 'I know you like her.' He raised an eyebrow. 'But she only likes your crown.' He breathed out slowly, unresponsive. 'I've seen you glance at her. The _intimacy_. Chasing each other in the corridors. It was fun while it lasted, but she knows her place and she knows yours.

'Marrying Amelia is a good deal and thanks to Poppy's wits it'll actually earn us money as well.'

 _I know you like her._

Did everybody know?

'I want to marry out of love,' he said slowly. 'Not duty. Besides, what is the _rush?_ The people have their Royal Wedding. It's bloody still in progress while you're already planning mine. Don't you see the ridiculousness of this all, mother?'

'Don't you see it?' she shot back. 'You promised the people a marriage. You had them expected when you kissed that girl at the Ascot. And then you started spending time with one of the ladies who were there with you. Started to appear in public. Lunch, dinner, social outings. She was there more often than not. You had the people _believe_. Had them _fooled.'_

She smiled. 'Not me, though.

'I know you don't want to get married. Not to Kent anyway. And perhaps there is this one girl who you would not be entirely opposed to, to wed. Alas, _that_ is simply not possible.'

'You are _King,_ ' she sneered. 'There is no such thing as true love, slow burn, getting to know each other on _your_ terms. Your siblings have done it, they have even chosen plebeian partners, just as you would love to. But they have left _you_ with exactly _no_ freedom to do the same. You are well aware of this fact, are you not?'

'Who says I want a _plebeian wife?_ ' he scoffed. 'I don't.'

'Then what is this discussion about?'

He fell silent, looked over his shoulder at Jasper. He had no answer. Not one he was willing to speak out loud. He only knew one thing for certain.

'I will not marry her.'

'And you will not marry _her_ either,' Helena hissed. The _who?_ did not make it past his lips as his mother rose swiftly from her chair and stepped forwards toward him. Pressed a finger into his chest as she pursed her lips and looked up at him. He could, in that moment, clearly see the similarities between his mother and his sister. Uncannily so.

'She is a _peasant._ A _servant_. She is not _worthy_ and never will be. Take her as your concubine, I do not care, but _Poppy' –_ and she spat the name with so much venom, Robert physically recoiled – 'will _never_ be your wife.'

She touched his forearm gently, smiled at him.

'Do not test me, Robert. If you do, I will take away more from you than just your throne.'

He watched her walk away from him, back to the Palace.

 _Queen Mother, indeed._


	14. ACT III - Part I - Truth and Lie

**Apologies for keeping you waiting for this long. I've been having some trouble with this story because I've strayed from the original plan, so the original ending won't fit anymore. So I needed this chapter to get me going in the right direction again. I'm going to wrap this up in the coming five chapters, so don't worry. I will finish it! Thank you for bearing with me.**

* * *

 **ACT III.**

 **Philosopher**

 **Part I.**

 **Truth and lie.**

He still didn't remember her name, but she had no qualms about him calling her Kent. Why would she? A small sacrifice – renouncing her name, the one given to her at birth –considering she would gain a throne. A crown. A title and –

'I just don't see you as a husband.' Eleanor was laying on her back, one arm hanging off the side of her brother's bed, while the other rested in Jasper's lap, hand hidden from his sight and Robert had absolutely no inclination to discover where or _what_ exactly she was grasping with her paw.

He decided to humor her. 'And why is that?' Had been doing that a lot the past couple of days. Humoring her. Now that Liam had officially moved out – and the two of them were still not on speaking terms. If anything, Robert knew how to hold a grudge. Nothing short of Liam begging and groveling on his knees would get him to speak to his younger brother in the foreseeable future – and his mother was dropping hints here and there and _everywhere_ concerning his impending engagement, there were few things that did not make him miserable _or_ make him lose his temper and humoring Eleanor, so he had discovered, was one of those few things. He considered it a miracle the Kingdom hadn't gone to shit, yet.

'First off, you've been pitiable ever since Liam's wedding and secondly, you're just not husband-material,' she said. 'Too stubborn. Too proud. Too sure of yourself.'

'Seems like you're describing yourself,' Jasper smirked and Robert saw her arm move, lightning quick, grabbing hold of _something_ and Jasper flinched.

'Your input is not required, _bodyguard_ ,' Eleanor said, her arm now in full display, and over her head Robert raised an eyebrow at Jasper, smirking.

 _Balls,_ Robert mouthed at him. Jasper rolled his eyes, at the same moment rolling over as Eleanor scooted closer to Robert. He arched an eyebrow at his little sister, leaning back as she pressed herself forward off the bed in his direction.

'Too stubborn, too proud and too sure of yourself,' she repeated. 'And too in love with somebody else.'

 _Right._

That.

Not that again.

'Yes, _that_ again!' He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud, looked up at Eleanor wearily. Perhaps he'd been humoring her too much lately.

'I'm not really in the mood, Len.' Everything concerning _her_ had already been said. And he remembered his anger, the feeling of betrayal, when his mother told him Poppy knew.

 _Had been her idea._

This girl who he had slowly started to… Not love. _Never_ love. But he had started to believe her. Had believed that maybe there was something there for him, something _more_ than being a King on a pedestal, _alone._ Perhaps not alone.

With her?

 _Maybe._

Not anymore, though.

'I'm engaged to Kent and that's it.'

'You're not,' Eleanor insisted. 'Not yet you are.'

'An irrelevant detail,' he told her, scowling at Jasper who was laying sprawled across the bed like he belonged there now that Eleanor had vacated it. Like it was his. Entitled little prick.

'Hey!' Eleanor hissed, snapping her fingers in his face. 'I am talking to you, Robbie. Stop looking at my piece of shit boyfriend and start looking at me.'

He did as she demanded, unimpressed though, his face carefully schooled in deliberate impassivity.

'What do you _want_ , Eleanor?' he sighed. 'Kent is an amazing woman. She's from a respectable family, has had a good education. She's intelligent and beautiful, soft-spoken unlike others here at court' – Jasper coughed – 'and she will be a good Queen.'

'And who fed you that bullshit?' Eleanor said scathingly. 'And who cares about being a good Queen? Will she be a good partner, a good friend? A good _wife_?'

'I'm sure I'll find out.'

She groaned and for a moment he thought she might stamp her feet. She did not but she was damn near close as she threw herself next to him on the sofa.

'You're such a prick,' she complained. 'Come on, be honest. Don't you like Poppy? Don't you... I don't know. _Love_ her?'

She saw the look on his face, the raised eyebrow, and corrected herself. ' _In_ love with her? Care about her? Have feelings for her that at least go _deeper_ than what you feel for Kent? I mean, we don't even know the girl's bloody name!'

'Amelia Windsor,' Jasper said and Eleanor furiously whipped her head towards him. 'Again, _bodyguard_ ,' she hissed. 'Your input is not required.' She waved at him dismissively, baring her teeth at him as she went on a lengthy rant about why he always felt the need to stick his nose where it wasn't wanted nor needed.

And Robert remembered them, those _deeper_ feelings. Remembered again anger and betrayal. Agonizingly slow, as he had left his mother's study to return to the party, all the pieces had fallen into place, and in between kissing some great-great Aunt on the cheeks and twirling Eleanor around on the dancefloor, he had come to the realization that – _for fuck's sake_ – Poppy had _betrayed_ him.

And when the thought finally hit home, settled in and became a harsh truth rather than a vague guesstimate, his fingers had tightened on his sister's hand and the perpetual frown he seemed to be carrying daily, suddenly had become deeper.

He remembered _clearly_.

The need for air when Kent had approached him, looking perfect and all smiles, reaching for him and for fuck's sake, this was to be his _wife._ He had mumbled an excuse, something, _anything_ , and he was almost certain she hadn't believed, but she had let him go, had let him _flee_ this _façade_ of a wedding – he also remembered his brother, Liam and Willow, _happy_ , together, _nothing_ like him – into the empty halls of the palace and calm and peace and _her._

He remembered.

He stumbled upon her in one of the back halls, face half hidden in shadow as she leaned against a dark wooden, low cabinet. She was on her phone. He recognized her immediately. And perhaps _everything_ inside of him exploded at that moment.

 _Imploded._

'Robert,' she breathed as she noticed him, but she had barely time to catch her breath again, as he slammed her against the wall. The back of her head hit the paint hard and he pressed her there, his fingers spread around her neck, palm pressed insistently against her throat. He felt her swallow deeply, felt her raised heartbeat in the vein that ran beneath his hand. He dimly registered her phone dropping to the floor, her hand fisted in the lapels of his jacket.

He'd punch the wall beside her head, wanting to scare her, make her fear him, but she had only pulled him closer. And he had pressed closer, had tightened his hold on her throat.

'Why are you doing this?' he remembered asking and she hadn't looked at him. Had placed her cheek against his hand resting on the wall beside her head. Her soft breath on his skin. And just like that all the anger bled from his body. All that was left was –

'Why?' he repeated.

 _\- regret?_

He sighed. Rested his head on her shoulder, his nose burying in the crook of her neck. Taking in the scent of her.

'It's a good dowry,' she whispered. 'There were worse options.'

Taking in the taste of her, as he pressed a soft kiss against her skin.

'She'll be a good Queen,' Poppy continued.

His left hand had dropped from her throat, had started exploring. She was wearing a black dress, unassuming, _employee_ , not short enough. He pulled the hem up, ran his hand over her thigh. _Slowly._

'She's from a respectable family, nobility,' Poppy said.

He pushed her knees apart, pressed his hips against her.

'She's had a good education,' said Poppy.

She let him.

'She's intelligent,' she said.

His fingers moved to her inner thigh, upwards. _Closer_. He could feel her heat.

'Beautiful,' her voice was low. 'She's beautiful.'

He pressed an openmouthed kiss against the side of her jaw, worked his fingers past her knickers. _Moist._

Her breathing hitched. His finger slipped inside. A second one and she whimpered. _Wet._

'I missed you,' he said. 'I missed you, I _missed_ you. I missed _you_.'

She made to kiss him, ran her fingers through his hair, but before she could pull him nearer, he dropped to his knees. She squealed, but the feeling of his hot breath on her center had her gasp. Took her breath away. He kissed her there, pulled the fabric of her knickers to the side. Tentatively he ran his tongue between her folds and for fuck's sake, it was _exhilarating_ tasting her in his mouth. _All of her_. She arched off the wall, fisting her hands in his hair and he lifted her slightly for better access.

'I missed you,' he murmured against her. She couldn't hear the words, but she damn sure felt them as she panted out his name. Her leg shook as he added a finger, his tongue running over her throbbing clit as her fingers tightened in his hair.

'Robert..' She pulled his hair, forcing his head back. 'Someone will see us.'

He looked at her from between her legs. Flushed. Out of breath. A red tinge to her cheeks. She was _fucking_ beautiful.

'Let them see,' he snarled, the intensity behind the words surprising him. 'Let them see you're mine.'

And it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

He remembered kissing her, the taste of her cunt still fresh in his mouth. The way they clung to each other. His pants dropping to his knees. Her knickers around her ankles. That feeling of rightness as he entered her, her legs locked around his hips, her head arched back. He slammed into her with all his frustration, and anger, and hopelessness and _so beautiful,_ as she eagerly spread her legs for him. The sound of his name on her lips, the hoarseness of her voice. Her _abandon._ There was nothing better than knowing he did that to her. _Only him._

After, he pocketed her knickers. She saw and smirked. He adjusted her dress and she fastened his belt. He kissed her then, and it was slow and deep and everything they _could_ be.

'Do you really want me to marry her?' he asked her. Forehead resting against hers; lips brushing ever so slightly. She pressed their lips together. Her eyes remained open, as his.

'Does it matter?' she asked.

 _No_.

It doesn't.

He kissed the top of her nose. The corners of her mouth. The little spot behind her ear. Her collarbone. His arms slid around her body, pulled her near, held her.

'You know I love you, right,' he murmured, his voice muffled by her hair and he felt her stiffen. And then _relax._ It was as much truth as lie. It was all that he could give her.

'I love you,' he whispered in her ear. As if that would make it any less of a lie or any more of a truth.

He remembered.

'I told her I loved her,' he said out loud. Eleanor halted her monologue, turning slowly back towards her brother as Jasper's mouth former a surprised 'o'.

He avoided his sister's enquiring gaze, instead looked at the swirling contents of his whiskey glass.

'I told her I loved her,' he repeated slowly. 'And then I ordered her to make the necessary arrangements for my engagement and walked away.'

His sister's disappointment in him he saw coming.

The porcelain vase she threw at his head he did not.


	15. ACT III - Part II - Disgrace

**Wow. It's been a while. I finally figured out how I want this story to end, after coming up with multiple different endings. Another four chapters coming up. I'll try my hardest to finish them before the end of July. No uni, no work, vacay is finally here, so I think this is a realistic goal. Short chapter, by the way, but I needed something to kickstart Robert. Next chap, up soon. All of you who stuck around: I love you guys 3**

* * *

 **ACT III.**

Philosopher

Part II.

 _Disgrace._

'King dines _thrice_ with _Amelia of Kent_ in just as many days _'_ , Eleanor read irritated. 'Have you _seen_ this?' Mounts of magazines were spread out around her, covering almost the entirety of her and Jasper's bed. She chucked one of them – _Vogue: the Royal Editon_ – at him. He had been banished from their bed a while ago and had taken a seat, unwillingly, on the sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace. He caught it with a look of disinterest, managing to not spill the whiskey he had been nursing in his right hand, with the intention of returning to solemnly gazing out of the window and sipping the thirty-year-old blend, but started reading when Eleanor glared at him. The sight staring up at him from the pages of the Vogue was a familiar one: Robert and Kent, together at one of England's finer establishments, enjoying what seemed to be a romantic late-night dinner. The tabloids, magazines and almost every other news outlet in the kingdom had been going nuts the past couple of days. Robert had been catering to their needs very kindly, by appearing in public more often than not with Kent on his arm. The media were busy speculating about these recent events, the presses were running overtime printing up fairytales of royal weddings and whatnot and the British people were practically in a riot about the possibility of a new _Queen_ , all much to the chagrin of Eleanor and consequently Jasper, who had to bear the grunt of her annoyance.

'Can you believe this?' she complained as she threw yet another paper – the Daily Mail, obviously known for their objective and factual news coverage – in Jasper's general direction. Their cover showed a smiling Robert with Kent and the words 'King and Queen'.

'It's a disgrace!' she exclaimed. Rolled over and shouted into her pillow. Frustrated by her brother _and_ by her boyfriend's lack of response. Rolled back and promptly threw the same pillow at Jasper's head.

'Say something!'

But what exactly did she want to hear? Jasper opted it was better to stay quiet and school his features in a look of understanding.

'I just don't get it,' Eleanor continued. 'He claims he loves Poppy. _Your_ best friend. And then he does _this_. How can you be so calm about it?'

 _Look of understanding._

Eleanor huffed.

'It's like I don't even recognize him anymore. First that business at the Ascott. Then the whole Liam-thing. And now this. This is not my brother. The Robert I know used to _fight_ for what he wanted. Mother never cowed him and she could certainly _never_ make him do something he did not want to. He used to be brass and arrogant and a complete stubborn pain in the ass, not this insecure piece of shit who acts like he has no balls. What is he playing at? What is his endgame? Has he lost his mind?'

She looked at Jasper expectantly, who calmly looked back. _Understanding._

'You have nothing to say?'

For a second he contemplated staying silent, but then decided against it. She was clearly expecting _something_ from him, though he wasn't certain what. There wasn't much he could do about the situation. It had taken a lot to stop Eleanor from physically attacking the king after he had finished relating his and Poppy's _love affair_ to them and both Eleanor _and_ Robert had not been impressed by his conduct at that time, so he'd rather stay out of it. Of course he'd spoken to Poppy, but where Eleanor was in no uncertain terms making her displeasure public, Poppy had been demure, quiet, _accepting_ of whatever it was that was going on.

'I don't know,' he said slowly. 'I think this is between the two of them.'

'Between the two of them?' Eleanor exploded and he sighed.

 _Wrong thing to say, Frost._

'He's _my_ brother and she's _your_ friend. He's behaving like a fucking idiot, parading Kent around like he's seriously considering marrying her. He should be courting Poppy, should be sneaking around with her, have dates in secret and get to know _her_ better instead of this so-called _duchess's daughter_ who is _entirely_ wrong for him. And he _knows_ it, that's why he told us about Poppy. He could have kept his mouth shut, but he didn't. Because he needs help. We need to get him out of this shithole he has gotten himself into. How can you say it's between the two of them when _clearly_ we are involved?'

Her logic was deluding him, as it so often did.

'I remember you telling me you liked Kent,' he told her. She scoffed in response. 'That was before I knew of all that had transpired between him and Pops.'

' _Had_ transpired, yes,' he said. 'It should've never happened and now it's done. Your brother made his choice and I think Poppy is fine with it.'

'I'm not,' Eleanor said stubbornly. 'I'm not fine with it. Poppy doesn't deserve this.'

She turned on her belly and rested her head on her arms. Looked at him. Her eyes sad.

'She deserves better than this. Better than a guy who tells her he loves her and then continues to woo and marry someone else. Because I know it, Jasper. I know all about keeping your feelings on lock, pretending like your heart doesn't beat faster when you see him or her. I know all about being miserable because you think, you wrongfully believe, you cannot be with the one you love. And so do _you,_ Jasper. We both know Robbie's making a mistake. He's going to marry Kent because of birdbrained reasons which only make sense in his moronic brain and they're both going to regret it for the rest of their lives.'

Jasper sighed. He set his glass down on the floor as he pushed himself up. Groaned and gave up all pretense.

'Len,' he started. 'Listen to yourself. It's done. They had their run and they always knew it wasn't going to work out. Your brother is King and she will never be a Queen. It's –'

'I'm a princess,' Eleanor interrupted him. 'And we all know you will never be a knight in shining armor. Yet here we are.'

He had come to stand before her and she looked up at him defiantly.

'A princess is not a king,' he said. 'Besides,' he continued before she could interrupt him again, 'what else do you want for her? Do you want her to be the best kept secret at court? Do you want her to be by his side, but never beside him? Do you want her to lie whenever someone asks her what she is to him, what he is to her? Do you want her to stand by and watch him live his life out there, while their life is behind closed doors and in the shadows? Because I've been there, Len. I've done that and even though it was worth it in the end, I would wish it upon no one. Certainly not my best friend.'

He sat down next to her, ran a hand soothingly over her back, past her shoulders until he brushed her jaw and softly made her turn her head, made her look at him again. She rested her cheek against his palm and he smiled. _A look of understanding._

 _True understanding._

'He's not you and he's not like Liam,' he said. 'Poppy's not me nor Willow. And no matter how much you want something; some things just aren't meant to be.'

'I still think it's a disgrace,' she muttered stubbornly, but he laughed and kissed her softly on the nose.

'I know you do,' he said. 'But you also know I'm right. This is between the two of them. And he made his choice. Whether he comes to regret it or not, only time can tell.'

Her nod was almost imperceptible, but the way she relaxed against him betrayed her agreement.

Neither of them noticed Robert listening at the door.


	16. ACT III - Part III - Leap of Faith

**So, two chapters in two days because I felt bad for making you wait this long. Three more to go. We're almost at the finish line! :)**

* * *

 **ACT III.**

Philosopher

Part III.

 _Leap of faith._

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Get rid of Jasper, drive to her house, take her out.

 _He should be courting Poppy, should be sneaking around with her, have dates in secret and get to know her better_.

Do exactly what his sister had suggested. He could still hear Eleanor's voice in his head. And despite his recent actions, he was _not_ an insecure piece of shit and he did _not_ cower before his mother.

 _Not really._

But sitting here, in his black SUV, the lights out, he did feel like a piece of shit and he wondered yet again _what the hell_ he was doing. Because there was no way this course of action, coming here, would not end in catastrophic failure.

But he had been miserable. He could at least admit that to himself. He'd been a fool to deny that, couldn't even deny that after he had caught himself, barely in time, stopped himself, from taking out Poppy's knickers from where he had hidden them in the farthest reaches of his underwear cabinet to _smell_ them – and the thought alone brought a self-deprecating smile to his face. He'd known then that yes, without a fucking doubt, he was absolutely miserable without her. She had changed him. For better and worse. Had turned him into a man he hardly recognized. _A fucking pervert._ But also, a better man, he'd like to think. A better man when she was around. It hadn't stopped him, though, from picking up the phone. From sending Kent a message to meet and have dinner. Hadn't stopped him from being brusque with Poppy, whenever they were forced to work together. And it hadn't stopped him from giving his mother - and therefore both Rachel and Poppy - the order to start planning his wedding.

 _Duty over desire._

And yet here he was. Not in front of Kent's house. But Poppy's.

 _Dawdling._

His phone lighted up; a text from Jasper. _Where the fuck r you?_ Etiquette still wasn't the bodyguard's strongest suit. Robert made a mental note to discipline him. Might be good for the both of them. Perhaps Robert would be able to lose some of his frustration by whipping Jasper back into shape. And even if he didn't, he considered punishing Jasper to be beneficial one way or the other. He chuckled out loud, softly at first, but then louder, until he was laughing, an unrestrained and boisterous sound, resounding in the darkness of his car.

 _Mental,_ he thought. _I'm going mad._

But it was good. Laughing like this. Laughing out loud about the absurdity of what his life had become. Bloody better than crying.

The knock on his window shut him up abruptly. Had him clearing his throat and drawing a hand over his eyes. _Breathe in, breathe out, Robbie._

 _Fucking Jasper_.

But it wasn't him. Two steaming mugs greeted him as he rolled down the window and his heart almost skipped a beat - the way it did in those romance novels that he _absolutely did not_ read - when he made out Poppy's face behind them.

'Hey stranger,' she said as a matter of greeting. 'Saw you standing here a while ago. Figured if you weren't coming to me, I should come to you.'

He stared at her. Mouth slightly agape.

'Can I come in?'

He wordlessly unlocked the doors, painfully aware he was looking like an idiot, but completely powerless to do anything about it.

 _Just roll with it._

She walked around the car, the mugs still in her hands, and he had the presence of mind to push open the passenger door so she could easily slide in.

'Hey,' he said. _Suave_.

'Hey,' she repeated.

He took the mug she offered. It contained a brown substance, coffee, but the slight tang of whiskey was unmistakable. He couldn't stop one corner of his mouth from curling up. Thank the gods she smiled back. Albeit forced.

'So,' she started. 'What brings you here, _stranger_.' Her emphasis on the last word made him feel guilty, fleetingly, as the feeling was followed by a rush of anger which he quickly suppressed. He wasn't here to fight. Not again. Not anymore.

 _Make love, not war,_ or something equally as cheesy.

'I just wanted to see you,' he answered, taking a page from Jasper's book. Eleanor had recounted that story so many times he could dream it. Apparently so could Poppy, as she let out a snort. 'Where's Jasper, then?'

They both laughed, awkwardly, but after a moment silence settled between them. He was acutely aware of his surroundings. In a car, with _her,_ on a darkened street. It made the hairs on his arms stand up straight, but not in a bad way. Not a good way, either, but certainly not bad.

He took a sip from his coffee.

 _Not bad at all._

'I haven't seen you around lately,' he said, trying to break the ice, but she wouldn't let him.

'Because you've been actively avoiding me,' she shot back, one eyebrow raised.

His first instinct was to deny it, but he wasn't here to spin more lies.

'I was,' he admitted. 'It was... Awkward.'

He cleared his throat again, took another sip to buy himself time.

'Awkward being around you,' he continued. 'With the impending engagement and everything.'

'Yeah,' she agreed. 'Especially how you told me you loved me and then ordered me to set up your wedding. When, exactly, will the public announcement be? Remind me, I forgot.'

And there it was. The entire reason of him being here at this precise moment. Not a day sooner, not a moment later.

He sighed.

'The day after tomorrow.'

This time when silence fell, it was heavy and painful, a void between them they would never be able to cross. Yet that was exactly what he intended to do.

 _Cross the void._

'I meant it,' he said. 'I wanted to see you. The way we left things. The way _I_ left things. It wasn't right. I _needed_ to see you.'

'I owe you an apology,' he said. 'But no apology I can offer you, will make right the way I treated you. These past couple of days. _Weeks._ But I am sorry. _Truly_.'

'You're always sorry, Robert,' she said. 'You're always sorry until you fuck up again.'

She had her face turned away, but he could feel her gaze on him through the reflection of the window.

'My mother -'

'Fuck your mother,' she hissed and her outburst surprised her as much as it did him. She took a deep breath, steeled her shoulders and turned towards him.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'It's just - Your mother is not on my list of favorite people right now. And that's putting it mildly.'

He couldn't help but smirk. 'She isn't on mine either.' They locked eyes for a moment, but then she resumed her earlier position, the mug held tightly between her hands.

'My mother,' he continued, 'forbade me to marry you.'

She opened her mouth but did not interrupt.

'And while it was not her place,' he said, 'it made me realize that I don't _want_ to marry you. Not right now, anyway.'

Another sip.

'What I want is to get to know you better. Discover who you really are. This amazing woman who I've known for the past two, three years, who I've only now discovered is so much more than meets the eye. This woman who makes me feels things until recently I didn't even know I could or wanted to feel. I want to take you out on a date, bring you flowers when I pick you up - not roses, because that's cliché - and experience that blundering moment of dropping you off back home and not knowing whether it's appropriate to kiss you good night or not. I want to know whether you prefer ketchup or mayo. Your steak rare or medium. Pie or cake? Pudding or mousse? Pineapple on pizza or not.'

 _Cross the void._

'I want to know _you_ and I want to fall even further in love with you than I already have.'

She was looking at him now and he smiled. _His most charming smile._ The one that made panties drop. The one no one could resist. The one his father had said would get him in trouble with the ladies. _In a good way_. He smiled at her and he tried to convey in that smile everything he felt for her.

'Too bad you're getting married then,' she said coldly, ignoring his smile and the hope in his eyes. She caught herself, toned down the venom in her voice. 'I know you're not a regular guy, Robert. You're not like anyone I know. Not that I know many kings. But you, even without that burden, you're different. I knew that from the beginning. And I didn't plan on -'

She was looking for the right word. He could see her purposely avoiding the word _love_ , could read it in her face.

'I didn't plan on liking you,' she decided upon. They both knew what she meant.

'I didn't. But I did. And I promised you I would always be there for you. No matter what. I promised and I meant it. I want the best for you and I know I'm not it, but I would've have never left you. _Never_. But I never expected you to behave so cowardly.'

'You haven't even looked at me these past few weeks, Robert,' she said and her voice was rising, emotion threatening to rise to the surface. 'You told me you loved me and then you completely shut me out. And now, two days before you're getting engaged, you're here. Claiming to want to get to know me better. To want to fall in love with me.'

She spat in her mug and it was so uncharacteristic for her he almost laughed.

'People who love each other,' she said, 'who truly _care_ , don't treat each other like shit.'

She seemed to have made up her mind and opened up the door, pushed herself out of her seat with one hand, the other wiping furiously at her eyes. _Angrily._

'I'm done crying over you, Robert,' she said, standing in the door. 'I _love_ you' - and it was the first time he ever heard her say it, the first time he truly realized he needed to hear her say it - 'and I want to be there for you, but you cannot pull me close and then toss me out again and pull me close and then toss me out once more. It doesn't work like that. Announce your engagement and get married. _Please._ Fulfill your duty. And after, we'll figure out what's left of our friendship and how to salvage it.'

She didn't slam the door; Robert had expected her to, but then again, he knew her to be nothing but graceful. And it felt like he couldn't breathe. His throat constricted. The pounding of his heart suddenly resounding in the too empty space. The quiet pressing against his ear drums and her walking away was too much. He choked, a hacking sob that took the air away, and then he moved.

He threw open his own door, dropping his mug on the cobblestone streets and it shattered in a thousand pieces. _Typical_.

He didn't think, just ran after her. And when he grabbed her arm and turned her around, saw the lone tear streaming down her face, knowing he put it there, it hurt him more than he thought it would. Than he thought it _could_. All he could do was cup her cheeks and close his eyes.

 _Take a leap of faith_.

He kissed her.

 _He kissed her_.

She pulled back her arm and slapped him. With everything she had, she slapped him. He recoiled, but not far enough for her to get away. His fingers were curled around her arm; he pulled her towards him again. Buried his face in her hair, his burning cheek against her hot skin. Pulled her close and in and near and _no._

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I'm sorry, I'm _sorry.'_

The shaking of her shoulders betrayed her emotions and he promised, breathed, vowed, 'I'm not letting you go.'

She struggled against him, but she was tiny, _so tiny_ , and eventually she relaxed in his arms. Relaxed her breathing and ran her fingers over one of his arms.

'Robbie,' she pleaded. ' _Please_.'

But he shook his head.

'I'm not, Poppy,' he said. 'I promise.'

She sighed and her breath on the side of his face made him shiver.

'I know you think you do,' she said. 'But this is a promise you cannot keep. And I've made my peace with that.'

She pressed a kiss into his hair, then leaned back as she forced him to look at her.

'Your kingdom and your people and your queen and your family. They will always come before me, as they should.'

'I will always be your friend,' she said, 'but this' - she gestured between them - 'cannot continue. _This_ is over. It's nothing. It's you and it's me, but it's not _us_. You don't have to make promises you can't keep and I don't have to pretend to believe them.'

If he could've have held her tighter, he would have, but he was already holding her so close.

'What if I break it all off?' he said. 'What if I tell Kent this is not happening. Like you said, _fuck my mother_.'

And she laughed, but at the same time shook her head. 'You won't.'

'But what if I will?'

'You _won't_ ,' she repeated. 'Why would you?'

'Why wouldn't I?' he asked stubbornly.

'You can't answer a question with a question,' she said.

He smiled.

'To fall in love with you,' he said. 'To fall in love with you I would.'

'And risk robbing your people of the queen they deserve?' she countered. But he shrugged. 'Who says you can't be that queen?'

'I can't,' she said. 'I won't. I don't want to.'

'Every girl wants to be a queen.'

'I don't,' she said. 'And that's where this fairytale ends.'

She stepped back and out of his arms, placed a hand against his chest to keep him at bay.

'I could never ask you to give up your kingdom for me,' she said. 'And we both know parliament would never approve of me. And that's fine. For a moment in time I had a piece of you. And that was enough. Let's not pretend like it was more than that. I meant what I said. I'm done crying over you.'

She kissed his cheek and he let her. Didn't try to stop her when she turned around. Watched her as she walked back to her house and closed the door on whatever they could've been.


End file.
